


Who Are You?

by LesbihonestGuys



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternative Universe - FBI, Blood and Violence, Detective Lexa, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gang Member Clarke, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Mind Manipulation, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-06-17 07:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbihonestGuys/pseuds/LesbihonestGuys
Summary: Lexa has lost everything, and Clarke is her key to vengeance. But will she be able to separate feelings from work?A/N HEAVY ANGST, MANIPULATION AND LIES, BUT LOADS OF SMUT!!!!! AND ANYA/RAVEN HUMOUR





	1. Remember, Remember

**Author's Note:**

> BLOOD AND VIOLENCE WARNING!!!!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

Most people tell Lexa that she’s just like her father; she’s brave and fearless, morally strong and pragmatic, and quite the magnet for female attention. She never liked the attention though. In fact, she tends to go for the girls who don’t give her any attention as they’re typically the ones that appreciate her personality rather than looks. That’s what her father taught her with multiple photo albums of him without the looks during his younger years, but with girls by his side.

 

Her father’s always been supportive of her, no matter what she did. He’d tell her that everything is just a stepping stone to who she’s going to become, who she’s going to share her life with. Her first time drinking underaged, he told her the story of when he went to a party aged 15 and came home slurring and puked in his dad’s favourite hat. When she told him that Costia is not only her best friend but the person she’s in love with, he told her the story of him and her mother falling in love. And when Costia was gone, he told her of the four women that came before her mother, and the loss and suffering that made him the man he is now. He taught her how to be strong.

 

“Lexa, come on! Just hear me out.” Lexa ignores her best friend’s protests and continues reading the files on her desk. She’s never in the mood for Anya and her constant set-ups of blind dates. First there was Caitlin, then Jessica, then Natalie, none her type and none worth meeting. No one compares to Costia’s beauty.

 

“I’m not ready, and even if I am, I don’t have the time.” Anya rolls back on her swivel chair to stop right next to Lexa and leans her elbow on the desk. Lexa turns to look at her with a frustrated and exaggerated exhale of air.

 

“Just one date. She’s great, trust me. She’s been Raven’s best friend since, like, birth!” Anya reminds Lexa of her own mother. She’s pushy, stubborn and wants to control Lexa’s love life.

 

“I don’t care who she is, Anya. I have work to do.” Lexa knows that she’s hard on herself, but she’s been taught that the only way to succeed is hard work and pushing limits - even when she goes nights with no sleep.

 

“You’re no step closer than you were six months ago. One night isn’t going to fuck the whole investigation up.” Anya makes a good argument, but Lexa would never admit it to her. She isn’t ready.

 

“Anya.” Her voice is strong and stern, scolding almost.

 

“Think about it. I’ll text you her number and a picture of her too.” Anya pushs herself back to her own desk quickly grabbing her phone and her bag.

 

“No.” Lexa turns her head glaring at Anya who's standing up and putting her jacket on.

 

“I gotta run; I’ll text you later!” She attempts to throw a scrunched up ball of paper at Anya but fails miserably with a sigh.

 

Lexa lives and breathes by the rules. She was never one to stray down a ‘bad’ path; she knew the consequences too well from the stories her father used to tell her as a child. She’d seen the consequences as she grew up and took on his profession too, despite his protests. Even being best friends with Anya - the biggest thrill seeker in existence - Lexa still manages to do the sensible thing.

 

Costia used to bring that ‘risky’ side of her out, like that time she went down on her in a restaurant bathroom, or when they made out in the park while having a picnic and everyone could see them. Anya simply laughed when Lexa used those as evidence of her thrill seeking, but Lexa doesn’t pay attention to it. To her, any time with Costia was thrilling. But then, Costia was gone. And so was Lexa’s ‘thrill’, or what was left of it. She became more uptight - if that was even possible - overly protective of her loved ones, and obsessive with finding the leader of _Trikru_.

 

Maybe a date won’t hurt. She really was becoming obsessed with _Trikru_ \- although she has valid reasons for her obsession - which was beginning to affect her mental health. She thinks of giving her father a call to hear his opinion. After he retired, he trained to become a police psychologist, or the ‘shrink’ as he likes to call himself. He’s the only one she’ll trust with her feelings.

 

“Woods. Take a break.” Gustus, her chief, walks up to her desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He has kind eyes, concerned almost, like he can see what this case is doing to Lexa. He knew how much Costia meant to Lexa, after seeing the two together all the time. Costia would bring Lexa lunch every single day, sitting by her side and caressing her back, fingers entangled in her hair as the brunette read and filled out files. With Costia gone, she sat alone.  

 

Lexa’s not an idiot. She knows that people - till now - give her looks of sympathy and tread carefully around her, even though it’s been almost eight months since the incident. Lexa thinks she handled herself pretty well; she spent a month drinking and then another cleansing her body with heavy workouts. The months following those two were brutal. Reality hit her, that Costia was gone and not coming back. She spent most of her time reading files, witness reports, driving around any known _Trikru_ active locations and practically harassing information out of young suspected gang members.

 

“I’m okay. I know my limits.” She’s broken all her limits.

 

“You clearly don’t. I can see the bags under your eyes from my office.” She rolls her eyes at him and leans back in her chair. He’s looking at her with a grow raised and a knowing grin on his face.

 

“I had five hours of deep sleep three nights ago. I’m fine.” So she knows that she’s not fine. She’s studying Psychology and has been for the past five years. If anyone understands the extent of ‘bad’ her mental state is in right now, it’s Lexa. She can’t sleep, she can’t eat, she can’t breathe properly sometimes. Her anxiety levels have increased and so has the amount of panic attacks she’s had in the past few months. She’s spending less time out, more time huddled in her office chair, sometimes staying overnight nursing several cups of coffee.

 

“You need a lot more than that for your body to be well rested. Go home.” She can’t go home. Home reminds her of Costia. She only goes home when she’s exhausted enough to pass out the second she hits the bed. She doesn’t want to think.

 

“Come on, Chief.” His welcoming smile is now a stern glare as he begins stepping back.

 

“That’s an order, Woods. And take tomorrow off too.” Lexa groans and squeezes the empty bottle of water that was laying on her desk.

 

“Can I take the files with me?” Gustus pauses his movement, then marches over to her desk grabbing anything labelled _Trikru_. Now she’s pissed.

 

“I’ll keep them locked in my cabinet, so don’t even think about it.” She throws the bottle at his back and rolls her eyes at his chuckle. He retreats into his office.  


“You’re an ass, you know that, right?”

 

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that. They’ll get jealous; means I care.” He says with a smirk and shuts his office door. Lexa sighs and pouts as she glares at her significantly less messy desk. She was getting close to something. She knows that she’s getting somewhere, closer day by day. She has a feeling her luck is about to change. She just needs their main location. Just a few more interrogations. She needs to find an inside man, someone more higher up than the young members she’s picking up from the streets. Lexa begins making her way home.

 

Costia. Costia, the love of her life, the person that has been by her side long before anyone else was, before Anya, before Lincoln. Costia, the girl that Lexa was going to marry one day. The ring is still on her nightstand. Costia was murdered. Fucking murdered, by the leader of Trikru. And what for? Because Lexa got close. Lexa had Ontari in custody, the leader’s younger sister. She was so close to getting solid information that could have destroyed their organisation.

 

But Trikru wouldn’t have that. Trikru had to protect themselves, had to keep their business. That’s all it was to them, all it is. Business, no feelings no remorse, just savage business. She still remembers the day it happened, the box that was sent to the office, the gunshots, the attack on the station, Ontari’s escape. She remembers it all and refuses to forgive and forget.

 

Once Lexa steps into her apartment she drops her case on the ground, closes the door and slams her back against it. She slides down, knees up, arms resting on them. Everything reminds her of Costia. The bowl next to her head right now that Costia bought for the couple to put their keys in - Lexa always forgets where she put her keys.

 

The carpet was Costia’s choice, shipped from her family in Iran. Lexa needs to put a reminder on her calendar to get rid of it, ship it back. It’d be more useful there than here where all she does is curl up and lay on it.

 

She’d met Costia’s family. They loved her and were surprisingly supportive of their relationship. Costia’s mother taught Lexa how to cook chicken biriyani. She should call and apologise for missing their monthly skype sessions. She should tell her that looking at her only reminded Lexa of Costia’s delicate features, hazel and welcoming eyes, brown curls that Lexa had spent hundreds of nights with her face nuzzled into.

 

She stands up and makes her way to the kitchen as she tugs her tie so it’s loose around her neck. She strips her blazer off, throwing it onto the couch, well, missing the couch but close enough. She has nothing but old fruit and takeout in her fridge. Costia was the cook. She taught Lexa.

 

This is why she didn’t want to go ‘home’. This isn’t home anymore. This is the memory of Costia, this is what keeps her alive in Lexa’s heart, in Lexa’s mind, in Lexa’s everyday life.

 

She can’t be here.

 

**Boring Bitch**

_I need to go out tonight._

 

**Anya**

_Pickin u up in 20_

  


\----------

  


“You’re really getting on my nerves, you fucking dipshit.” Clarke grunts as she barely dodges the knife coming at her neck. She grabs the guys elbow and smacks down hard, hearing the knife clank onto the floor. “Just die already.” He manages to land a decent right hook, but the blonde’s jab is a lot harder. She feels his nose crack against her knuckles and shudders at the sound. Fucking creepy.

 

“You’re gonna pay for this!” He spits in her face. He fucking spits in her face. Now she’s pissed.

 

“Okay, I was joking about the dying thing, but not anymore.” In one swift movement Clarke punches him in the throat, knees him in the stomach, drops down with him as she picks up the knife and buries it deep into his thigh. It won’t kill him, just stop him from walking for a few weeks.

 

“Fucking bitch!” He spurts out as he drops with his hands holding onto the knife. Clarke sighs and pulls her phone out.

 

“I wouldn’t take that out if I were you. Keep it in and you’ll stay alive. Pull it out and you’re bleeding to death.” Clarke ignores the man’s screams and shouts of protests, swears and slurs, groans and moans. She’s gotten better at drowning it out recently.

 

**Ring The Bell**

_Coordinates?_

 

Clarke sends her location and sits down on the ground as she puffs out a breath in boredom. She pulls her knees to her chest and looks at the man who was currently crying on the wet ground. He notices her looking at him and attempts to drag himself back away from her, but only receives a chuckle from the blonde.

 

“I’m not gonna kill you. Relax. That’s not my job.” He doesn’t look any less terrified than two seconds ago, but Clarke continues. “I could never do that. Sure, I shoot people, stab them sometimes, a few punches and kicks, no biggie. But taking a life? Nope, never. I still wanna keep some of my humanity, you know? You get that, don’t you, Mark?” She stretches her legs out, grinning at the way he flinches. His hands are still gripping the knife dug into his thigh. She knows the pressure is likely getting to him now. She knows he’s tempted to pull it out.

 

She’d done that the first time she was stabbed - it was a big mistake. Blood everywhere. Pouring out and she couldn’t stop it from flowing. Niylah had scolded her for being an idiot, but she understood that Clarke was learning.

 

“It’s Alejandro.” She pulls out her gun from the inside of her jacket and points it towards him.

 

“I’m gonna call you Mark.”

 

“Okay it’s Mark!” She starts laughing at the way he was dragging himself away, only to give up and lay on the ground breathing fast and heavy. She’s glad she found him near a tunnel; the only people who could walk by would be homeless people and strippers. A little money usually keeps them silent.

 

That’s been her job for the past year or so. She used to be the medic, as that was what Niylah was training her for. But Clarke proved herself determined and strong-headed after her parents’ car crash. She was angry more than anything. Angry and upset and hurt and fucking angry. Niylah saw that rage in her, but she also saw the way Clarke was able to push her feelings aside and simply not give a fuck. She had to move on in life.

 

So Niylah promoted her, and now Clarke finds the enemies of Trikru, beats the enemies of Trikru, and brings the enemies of Trikru to Niylah. She decides whether she throws them in the cage purely for entertainment, or kill them on the spot. Clarke doesn’t watch either of those events, not even the few days of torture that comes before it. She knows Niylah doubts her sometimes due to this, but Clarke doesn’t like death. She likes the money she gets, she likes feeling wanted, feeling useful, being part of a group where she fits in. She likes the sex too. She really likes that, and she knows Niylah likes it too.

 

“Hey, Princess. Enjoying your little picnic with your mate here?” Clarke turns to see Bellamy stepping out of his car with a small sack and wires in his hand. She gives him a wide toothy grin and stands up to help him grab Mark, or Alejandro, Clarke really doesn’t give a fuck.

 

“What did he do again?” She groans as she lifts him up from his arms while Bellamy gets the legs. They drag him to the back of the truck where Clarke can heal his thigh a little so he’ll last the torture.

 

“A spy from Azgeda. Tried stealing weapons.” She climbs into the back and gets straps to tie under and above the stabbing.

 

“Well. I’m sorry, Mark, but the next few days are gonna be extremely long and painful for you.”

 

“Oh, by the way, Raven called. Says you’re going clubbing tonight. Got you a blind date.”

 

“Tonight? Ugh, now I _have_ to take a shower.” Bellamy rolls his eyes and shuts the door, which was nowhere near as loud as Mark’s scream as Clarke pulls the knife out. “Jeez, relax.”

  


\----------

  


**Griffin-dork**

_Pics?_

 

**Raven-claw**

_She don’t take any. But I’ve seen her, she’s Anya’s best mate_

 

**Griffin-dork**

_And?_

 

**Raven-claw**

_Daddy AF_

 

**Griffin-dork**

_Count me in ;)_

 

**Raven-claw**

_Picking u up in 15_

 

“Baby? Clarke’s in.” Raven shouts out to Anya as she applies her mascara carefully. She hears steps behind her, knowing her girlfriend is wearing her ‘fuck me’ heels. She’s definitely getting laid tonight.

 

“Great! So is Lexa. Clubbing?” She glances at Anya through the mirror and smirks at how hot she looks. Her dirty blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, her cheekbones standing out sharper than ever.

 

She remembers the first time she met Anya, which was at a club. Raven was throwing her ass around and accidentally knocked Anya’s drink out of her hand. She was angry until Raven started smirking at her, grabbed her from the back of the neck and smashed their lips together. It was lust at first sight, and faded into love.

 

“Yeah, the bar might have too much talking.”

 

Anya initially pushed Raven back, but only by an inch to glance into her eyes and take control of the kiss.

 

“Are we not the best matchmakers?” Anya wraps her arms around Raven’s waist and rests her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

 

They fucked in the bathroom that night at the club. It was purely savage and lust driven, clothes ripped apart, lips clashing. It was an out of body experience for Raven, animalistic almost. She had never been fucked like that.

 

“The best.” She turns around and hooks her arms around Anya’s neck. Her girlfriend stares into her eyes with such adoration and Raven forgets how to breathe, so she kisses Anya and breathes her in instead.

 

She’s thinking of moving in with Anya. She knows it seems kind of fast, as they’ve only been officially together for 9 months. But they were fucked for more than that, tried a friends with benefits thing - it was Anya’s suggestion. But Anya fell for Raven fast, and she’s pretty sure they were in love with each other way before they became official.

 

She wants to ask her, but she’s scared. She’s scared of rejection, of Anya saying it’s too soon, of Anya getting scared and endings things with her. That’s what happened with Finn. She doesn’t need another Finn. That broke her and when she looks into Anya’s eyes she truly believes that Anya cannot hurt her. That Anya will not hurt her.

 

“What you thinking about?” Anya mumbles with her nose nuzzled into Raven’s neck.

 

“You.” She strokes her fingers through Anya’s locks.

 

“Yeah? What about me?” Anya pulls back with a smirk and nudges Raven’s nose with her own.

 

“Your boobies.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“You love me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave kudos and comments :)
> 
> let me know what you like, what you don't like, what you want, what you don't want


	2. Infiltration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEXUAL WARNINGS! - SUBTLE CHOKING!
> 
>  
> 
> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

The last time Lexa was in a club must have been months, maybe even a year. She hates the lights. She always has. They’re practically blinding her, flashing several colours, quite dangerous now that Lexa thinks about it. She remembers reading an article - which led to reading even more articles - that suggested chronic exposure can lead to permanent damage. Something to do with molecules. She’s not a doctor nor a scientist; she’s just cautious. And curious.

 

It’s hot, humid, sweaty and every person here is oozing sweat from head to toe. It’s the dancing, as well as the press of body to body. Human contact is exhilarating; Lexa can at least admit that. But she never liked random human contact. People typically have that impression of her at glance. Girls assume she’ll fuck them and they assume she’ll do it well and fast and leave. 

 

But she never, ever, liked human contact with random women. It holds no significance. 

 

Maybe drinking helps with that smell. But Lexa doesn’t do that anymore. And she knows if she even attempts to, Anya will be at her side slapping her hand away, sometimes her face. Said girl was currently dragging Lexa by the arm through the heat, barging a few people when necessary. They pass the line of angry bodies. Anya grins at the bodyguard and grips his bicep. Lexa doesn’t like men, never did, not when they have such predatory looks after a glimpse of attention from a woman. 

 

She hates the smell, she’s always hated it even during her uni years when Anya dragged her around. She used to tolerate it more back then, when she had Costia and she had drinks and was ignorant to the struggles of life. 

 

She remembers her first time in a club. It was surprisingly Costia that took her and didn’t include Anya’s forceful dragging to convince her. Rather Costia dragging her tongue along Lexa’s body. Just a please would have been enough. 

 

“I think I see Raven there!” Anya shouts over the music and fits her fingers into Lexa’s to ensure she won’t run away. Lexa sees the wavy locks first. It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact shade of blonde due to the lights. Lexa glares at the back of Anya’s head for setting her up with another blonde. From her experiences, they were hot, attractive definitely. But they’ve never been her type. The blondes that she had met typically had egos bigger than their breasts. Her hair looks wavy, curly. Like Costia’s. She suddenly doesn’t want to be here. 

 

“I changed my mind.” Lexa yells and tries to pull her hand away from Anya, but the girl has other plans. She holds tighter and turns to pout at Lexa. 

 

“No! You’re in here and there’s no going back now. Hey baby! Clarke!” Anya greets the two standing at the counter. She gives Raven a deep kiss, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s slender waist. The blonde turns and smiles at the couple’s affections while sipping her drink. 

 

“Hi there, sexy. I love your outfit. Who picked it out?” Raven murmurs teasingly against Anya’s lips and turns her head to kiss her cheek lightly. The two are always all over each other; the honeymoon phase is still going on surprisingly. 

 

Lexa takes a quick glance at Clarke while the couple are making out grossly in front of their friends. Clarke’s features are delicate, like most girl, but mixed with sharp. Her lips slightly glossy as the blonde sticks her tongue out to swipe. Her face, practically clear, natural, not painted like most girls that Anya sets Lexa up with. Her eyes. Even with the flashing lights, Lexa can see blue. 

 

“Very funny. Clarke, nice seeing you again. This is Lexa.” Clarke winks at Anya and leans in to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. 

 

“Always a pleasure.” She turns and finally looks at Lexa. “Woah. Wow, hi, hey. Fuck, you coulda warned me.” Lexa held back a chuckle at Clarke’s suddenly nervous expression. She wasn’t expecting that reaction, but she wasn’t expecting any reaction at all. Usually, she’d either get a friendly smile and an awkward handshake or hug. Or the girl would be all over her until she notices Lexa’s not putting out. 

 

“Hello.” She gives Clarke a simple nod. Lexa brushes past the blonde and attempts to get the attention of the bartender. She listens to the conversation behind her with a smirk. 

 

“Did I not say ‘daddy AF’? Is that not warning enough?” Lexa’s had her fair share of women to know that she’s ‘daddy’ as they like to say. Maybe it’s the suit she’s always wearing, some girls have said it’s the way she walks. She didn’t know until then that walking can be seen as attractive. Lexa has come to learn a number of unusual things can be seen as attractive. A simple leather jacket got some girls swooning over her, or the way she ties her hair up, sometimes her mini braids. 

 

“I could of worn my corset. Now I look like a piece of shit.” Now Clarke in a tight corset. Lexa’s not ready, she knows she’s not ready, but she has eyes. She’s only human, and her eyes tell her that the blonde has great breasts. Hearing Clarke talk negatively about herself is beyond stupid; the blonde is gorgeous, even though Lexa is still not ready. 

 

“You look beautiful.” She whispers into Clarke’s ear with a friendly smile, happy that the blonde was now smirking at her. Maybe seeing her confident side might change Lexa’s mind. 

 

“Let’s find a table.” The four start pushing their way through the crowd until they find a booth. Of course Raven shoves Clarke to Lexa’s side as she sits down, but the blonde doesn’t look like she’s protesting. She’s simply smiles at Lexa while sipping on her drink. 

 

The first time she went clubbing with Costia was meant to be a disaster. It should have been a disaster, as Lexa ended up bumping into this huge, muscled, tatted up man who shoved her to the ground. But it was the first night Costia told Lexa that she loved her, while checking her body for any bruises and marks. It may have been a disaster, but it was a beautiful one. 

 

Lexa takes her time glancing around the club, observing the people, the exits and entrance, the bar, anything she can take a look at. She’s been told on several occasions that she’s lost the ability to separate her work-mind and, well, not-work mind. They’re integrating, like her mind is constantly in detective move, trying to find the bad guy, making sure she’s safe. She tends to think she’s always in danger somehow so it’s best to stay aware of her surroundings. But she seems to have forgotten to be aware of Clarke who is sitting next to her sighing and casually drinking. 

 

“So, Clarke,” she murmurs and gains the blonde’s attention. “Tell me about yourself. What’s your line of work?” Lexa notices immediately that Clarke was uncomfortable with that question. Her brows raised slightly, there’s a lack of wrinkles around her eyes meaning her smile is fake. Lexa can almost feel Clarke’s leg shaking against her own through faint vibrations. 

 

“Oh, no work talk. We’re here to escape that, right?” Her smile is now suggestive, with a slight curve and a subtle lip bite. So Clarke really is just like all the other girls. She simply wants a night of fun. Lexa hasn’t slept with anyone since Costia. Anya’s been trying to get her out there, but she can’t. She can’t go from something so meaningful to something so meaningless. 

 

“Yes, of course. I guess work is stressful for most.” She hates the awkward talk about work and family, hobbies and interests. Why waste information storage on someone she’s likely never going to talk to again? 

 

“Not for you?” Clarke quirks her head to the side and sips on her drink. She places her phone down on the table, indicating her attention was on Lexa now. 

 

“I don’t think I fit in enough to be part of the masses. And you?” Lexa glances across the booth, not surprised to see that Anya and Raven have disappeared, likely either on the dancefloor or fucking in the bathroom. 

 

“What about me?” Her attention is back on Clarke, eyes zooming in on her lips that the blonde licks after each sip she takes. Lexa noticed. 

 

“Do you fit in with the majority?” Clarke sits back and smirks at Lexa with a challenging raise of her brow. 

 

“Guess.” Lexa decides to mimic Clarke’s action and rests her arm above on the booth, almost crossing over around Clarke’s shoulder. It’s loud. That’s a good enough excuse to get closer. 

 

“Do you want a full analysis or a quick guess?” Clarke leans in closer to her. The sweet scent of vanilla soothes the humid, sweaty air around them. 

 

“We’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” Lexa clears her throat and notices her nose was inches away from Clarke’s cheek, mouth near her ear. Just to make sure the blonde can hear her. 

 

“Well, you’re not wearing makeup.” And vanilla was now overtaken by sweat again as Clarke pulls back with her brows knitted together. 

 

“Woah! What does that have to do with anything?” Lexa lets out a nervous chuckle and pulls her arm back on the table. She takes a sip of her drink and clears her throat. Clarke’s still glaring at her, waiting for an answer. Lexa’s not an asshole. And she definitely doesn’t want Clarke thinking she’s an asshole. 

 

“I didn’t mean offence, Clarke. It’s just, I don’t,” She begins to stutter under Clarke’s slight glare. “Okay, look around you. Do you see any girl here without a full face of makeup?” Clarke looks around the club, seeing that Lexa was accurate in her statement. If Clarke looks this beautiful with no makeup, Lexa can just imagine how gorgeous she’d look with makeup, maybe blue eyeshadow, matching a royal blue dress that hugs her figure so perfectly. 

 

“No, not really.”

 

“How about, a girl wearing jeans with dry paint on them, and a t-shirt with a stain?” She teases, loving the look of shock and offense on Clarke’s face. But it’s more playful than the glare, with the slight curve of her lips. 

 

“Hey!” Lexa chuckles and rests her arm back to where it was behind the booth. 

 

“There’s beauty in that. But, I mean, I guess I would have appreciated a little more effort. Am I not worthy of a clean shirt?” She mocks with a playful pout. She expects a little giggle from Clarke, not a smirk. 

 

“We’ll see what you deserve by the end of the night.” There she goes, reminding Lexa that she is just like every other girl. With her seduction, her smirks and grins, her lustful eyes. Lexa chugs her glass of coke, slightly wishing it was something else. She hates false hope. 

 

“Want a refill?” Clarke asks as she slithers out of the booth. 

 

“Sure, thanks. Just a coke.” She slides her glass across the table. 

 

“You don’t drink?” 

 

“No, not anymore.” Lexa breathes out. Clarke’s expression is curious. 

 

“I’ll be right back.” She left her phone on the table. That’s highly trusting of her, not that Lexa is the type to go snooping. If she’s not going to see Clarke again, then why waste her time? 

 

She glances around the club, taking in her surroundings yet again. She spots Anya slender figure standing at the bar holding a drink in her hand and Raven’s stomach in the other, standing behind her girlfriend. Raven’s head was resting back against Anya’s shoulder. Sometimes Lexa looks at the them and just wishes. She wishes, prays, that Costia will come back to her. She knows it’s not possible, it’s not scientifically possible. But Costia herself was like a miracle, Lexa felt so lucky to be able to call that beauty ‘mine’. If that miracle occured, why can’t another? Why can’t she come back to her. She wants that. She wants what Raven and Anya have. 

 

Clarke’s phone buzzes, Lexa feels the vibrations through the table. There was no harm in glancing at it. She’s only human, it’s practically reflex to this generation. 

 

**Boss-Niylah**

_ Got another job for you. Call when you can, and I need it cleaner than the last one. _

 

Niylah. 

 

It can’t be. 

 

It can’t be Niylah. 

 

The Niylah that sliced Costia’s head off her body. Clarke does not seem like the type. Clarke is beautiful, Clarke is funny, and honest, and fair and...and...a killer. 

 

Lexa could just take the phone, take down Niylah’s number, track her down and boom. It can be that easy. Vengeance can be right in the palm of her hands. She could find Niylah. Use the element of surprise. Catch her. Imprison her. But she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to imprison her. She wants to wrap her hands around that fucking monster’s throat until she can feel bones cracking. 

 

She shouldn’t be surprised, as if she knows the girl. She barely knows her. Well, at least she guessed the blonde isn’t part of the majority. Instead, the blonde is a murderous criminal working for a murderous drug dealer. Clarke works for Trikru and they took everything away from her. 

 

Lexa glances up and sees Clarke approaching. She doesn’t have time to think, or even take the phone. 

 

“Hey, you okay?” She needs to get that phone. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Do you think they’re getting along?” Raven asks Anya as she cocks her head to the side to give her girlfriend more space to kiss along her neck. Lexa and Clarke have been huddled up together, still in the booth, giggling and smiling. Raven doesn’t really know Lexa that well. The brunette’s been defensive since they met, and still is, even though it’s been established that Anya trusts Raven more than anyone. 

 

“Looks like it.” She moans softly as Anya bites down on her jawline just below her ear. She feels her girl’s soft tongue caress the wound. 

 

“Hmm. Clarke seems into her. Look, she’s leaning!” Anya sighs at the interruption and glances up to look at the pair. Raven pushes her back slightly so she’s resting against the counter and the brunette rests flush against Anya’s body. 

 

“No. Lexa’s leaning. Wait! Lexa’s leaning! Oh my god.” Anya gasps out. Lexa made the first move, with her hand on Clarke’s jaw pulling her face closer. Raven didn’t really expect Lexa to be into Clarke, at least not this early. They’ve only been in the club for around two hours now. 

 

“Are we not the best fucking matchmakers?” Raven rests her head back and turns to gently kiss Anya. 

 

“Fucking best.” She turns her head back and sips on her drink. She’s content just standing here with her girlfriend worshipping her neck, jaw, whatever her lips can reach. 

 

When Raven first met Lexa, she received nothing but negative energy in the form of glares, scoffs and hard handshakes. At first, Raven figured the girl was just highly protective of her best friend. At times she even thought she was in a drama where the girl was in love with her best friend all along and was acting out at the sign of a girlfriend. 

 

Getting to know Lexa was a process. A long, tiring journey, but definitely worth it. She really is a fascinating being, a complex mind filled with complex thoughts. She even had the pleasure of reading some of Lexa’s poetry. 

 

That’s why seeing her destruction after Costia was so heartbreaking. It seemed like this complexity she held was destroyed, leaving a simple mind with simple thoughts and simple actions - that being drinking, crying and anger. The basic human fundamental emotions; the ID, as Freud put forward. She became impulsive, lacked that control she was obsessed with keeping in her life. 

 

Clarke, well, Clarke maybe isn’t the best match for her. Raven has known Clarke for years, practically since birth. They grew up together, parents were best friends from high school, the couples that were always seen together. They used to leave Clarke and Raven with the blonde’s grandmother once a week to go on a double date. Raven hoped to have that sort of connection, that sort of friendship, to hold for the rest of her life. 

 

Lexa loves control. Clarke loves chaos. She cannot be controlled, not by anyone or anything. She’s seen the destruction of life and suffered the consequences, therefore living off the motto to live while she’s young. To do everything and anything she desires. 

 

Raven watches the two closely, seeing Clarke’s grip in Lexa’s hair, observing the strands come loose. Lexa’s hands are placed gently on the blonde’s cheeks, fighting for the dominance, for the control. This is definitely gonna explode. 

 

“Wanna get out of here?” Raven hums and presses her ass back into Anya earning a playful growl. “I think those two can take care of themselves.” She turns in Anya’s arms and strokes the back of her neck with her fingers. 

 

“I want ice cream.” She moans as her girlfriend bites down on her bottom lip and swiped her tongue asking for entry. Raven accepts and moans into Anya’s mouth as their tongues danced together. 

 

“I want you.” She giggles and moves to kiss along Anya’s perfect jawline. She can hear her girlfriend’s hot and heavy breathing, the trail of fingers along her spine, the quiver in her step. She loves having that subtle power over her - she knows Anya would never admit that to any living and breathing person. 

 

“And you’ll get me. With ice cream.” She demands with a pout. 

 

“We have ice cream at home.” 

 

“Fine. I’ll have your boring vanilla shit.” Anya pouts this time, looking a little offended. Raven giggles, finding it amusing when she annoys her girlfriend. 

 

“Hey! It’s classic.” Raven’s hands trail to Anya’s lower back, resting contentedly. She smirks up at Anya and brushes the top of their noses together. 

 

“I’m just glad you’re not as plain in bed.” The blonde scoffs and Raven knows she’s about to accept the challenge. 

 

“I got plenty flavours to offer in bed. Why don’t I blindfold you and give you a taste test?” 

 

“Sounds perfect. Let’s go.” She’s so getting some. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Clarke knows she fucking scored tonight. She has no clue how she got this lucky, but Lexa is a goddamn goddess and Clarke is so going to worship every inch of her for as long as the brunette will let her. 

 

They’re currently sitting in a sweaty cab on their way to Lexa’s apartment - the brunette originally wanted to go to Clarke’s but she’s pretty sure she has a few guns lying around there. 

 

She wants to inch closer. She wants to hold Lexa, to feel her, to kiss her. Her lips, her cheeks, jaw, neck, collarbone, lower and lower until the brunette was gasping, writhing and moaning for Clarke. 

 

Her fingers itch, twitch for contact. Lexa seems to be reading Clarke’s mind and is suddenly by her side, gentle hands begging Clarke’s face to move, begging lips to find lips. Clarke let’s the brunette control her for the time being, moaning softly into the kiss. Skin brushes against skin as Clarke skillfully turns to straddle Lexa. 

 

Lexa’s soft moans vibrate through Clarke’s lips and the blonde can feel her thighs quiver. It’s a different kind of sensation feeling, knowing, that she’s affecting Lexa. There’s a beauty in sucking the self-control out of her, making her shake for Clarke’s affections, leaving her bare and begging. 

 

Lexa clearly has other plans as she pulls back and stares into Clarke’s eyes as she breathes heavily. Not just breathing physically, but mentally. Breathing Clarke’s eyes in, the lust swirling in her blue orbs, like she’s staring far across into the sea trying to make sense of what’s there. 

 

It’s dark, no lights but the fast lightning flashes from the windows as the cab speeds - likely to get the overly sexual pair away from him as fast as possible. The flashes allow Clarke to get brief glimpses into Lexa’s forests, exploring the differents shades of green. 

 

“Is this fast?” Clarke whispers, leaning close, hair protecting the girls from outside view. 

 

“Could be faster.” She feels Lexa’s hot breath on her lips as they brush lightly together, sparks between the two, brewing fireworks. Clarke grinds down subtly and smirks as Lexa lets out a groan followed by shaky breath. “Much faster.” She murmurs before smashing their lips together desperately, clinging onto Clarke by wrapping her arms around the blonde’s waist. 

 

It can definitely be faster. Clarke is also 100% sure the cab suddenly got a lot faster. She places her hand experimentally against Lexa’s chest, moving higher and higher, putting more pressure until her fingers were trailing at her neck. She’s in control now, tugging on Lexa’s bottom lip with her teeth. Lexa pushes her back, tugging her fingers away from her throat. She put her own around Clarke’s instead, and the blonde can’t help the gasps and moans at the action. 

 

Suddenly they came to an abrupt stop, the back of Clarke’s head crashing against the car seat in front of her. She drowned out the screams of the cab driver and followed Lexa up to her apartment. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Clarke’s finally fallen asleep; Lexa checked her pulse to make sure. She also waited another 30 minutes to ensure the blonde was in deep sleep. 

 

It was, well, surprisingly good. She tries to convince herself it was terrible, Clarke was terrible, she’s a murder, a killer, working for Costia’s killer. Clarke is all show, probably has a few girls a week. She’s a hot shot gang member, Niylah probably buys her a few prostitutes as reward for her dirty work. Lexa is just another toy for her. She keeps reminding herself.

 

She sits up, moving away from Clarke’s warm body into the cold air. She sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. She needs to get the phone. She needs Niylah’s number, email, anything she can get her hands on. This is by far the closest she has ever gotten to be in contact with Niylah. Apart from when she captured her sister. 

 

She begins roaming around the room finding pieces of clothing thrown around. Clarke’s jacket, empty pockets. Her jeans, empty pockets. She looks on the floor, crawls to check under the bed, accidently hits the back of her head on the way up. 

 

“Fuck! Where the fuck is it?” She whispers angrily and runs a hand through her locks. She sits back on the bed with a sigh and glares at a sleeping Clarke. There she is, a fucking gang member in her own bed. She let this, this, criminal into her bed, into her home, into her pants. All to get a phone that she can’t even fucking find. 

 

She’s sleeping with her arms splayed out, mouth slightly open, thinking she owns the place. Lexa notices the way she was breathing, her body moving up and down subtly with the movement, peacefully. 

 

She could kipnap her. She could take her to the station and clearly word would be out quickly to Trikru that a member was taken. She clearly must be an important member if Niylah’s personally texting her. She’s imprisoned young members before, checked their phones with no sign of direct contact with Niylah.  

 

Clarke looks relaxed. Her brows perfectly flat on her face, not knitted together like they were moments ago when she was cumming for her. Lips soft, plump, not rough and slightly bloody from Clarke’s lip biting. Her hair messy, curly, wavy. Lexa’s glare softens. She has a desire, a need, a want to just sleep on her hair, to run her fingers through it, to feel her soft skin. She reaches over and lightly pushes a strand back away from Clarke’s face as it was tickling her cheek. 

 

She suddenly jumps up, catching glimpse of Clarke’s phone on the night table beside her head. Finally. She rushes around the bed and grabs the phone noticing it was on low battery. Scrambling to find the charger at her desk. She sits on her swivel chair and looks over her shoulder to double check that Clarke is still sleeping. 

 

Luckily the phone has no password so Lexa easily unlocks it and finds the messages app. Niylah’s the most recent contact. She quickly grabs a notepad from her drawer and writes out the number, glancing over her shoulder another time. 

 

Clarke is still sound asleep. 

 

Lexa scrolls through the conversation, finding multiple commands, even some friendly conversations. Flirting. Clarke may have been involved with Niylah. That piece of information triggered something different, something angry, within Lexa. 

 

She turns again, looking at Clarke. She needs more than just a few conversations. More than a number and email. She needs to infiltrate Trikru, even if it means sleeping with the enemy.

 

She puts the phone back to where it was and crawls back into bed, and with slight hesitation she wraps her arms around Clarke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM NOT GOING TO APOLOGISE FOR BEING A TEASE! OR FOR WHAT LEXA IS DOING. if you don't like slow burn then BYE
> 
>  
> 
> leave kudos and comments :)
> 
> let me know what you like, what you don't like, what you want, what you don't want


	3. Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

“We have to fucking get rid of those Azgeda bastards.” Clarke’s been zoning out for the past few minutes, her mind drifting to places that she knows she shouldn’t go to. Typically, she’s always concentrating on what Niylah says during these meetings because she knows that the boss always means business. 

 

Clarke was never one to be interested in Psychology. Of course she’s curious about human behaviour, but she likes remaining curious rather than knowing. She enjoys being one with her thoughts and overthinking, making theories, wondering why a person acts a certain the way they do. 

 

Trying to understand Niylah’s mind is another story. Maybe she can save that for another day. She stopped trying to figure out Niylah’s motivation for her actions - only once she realised they were not pure. They’re dark. And Clarke has no intention in finding out what caused Niylah to think and act the way she does.

 

“They’re stealing my- _OUR_ fucking drugs, _our_ weapons, everything that _we_ work for!” Clarke drops her head to the side slightly as she goes deeper into her thoughts. 

 

She’s thinking about Lexa. She’s been thinking about Lexa for days, ever since that night. She’s different. Lexa’s different to the other girls she’s been with. Lexa’s gentle, cautious, so fucking cautious. It was something new and refreshing. It’s something Clarke can definitely adjust to. 

 

She can close her eyes and feel Lexa’s gentle touch on her skin, fingers gliding along the spine of her back, lips soft like pillows landing on Clarke’s contrasting chapped lips. 

 

Lexa gave Clarke her number and saved Clarke’s, but still hasn’t texted her. Clarke initially thought Lexa’s just shy, especially after seeing how hesitant Lexa was in bed. She practically flinched with each touch - at least at the start. Clarke wanted to take dominance, she wanted to push Lexa down onto the bed and take her, take her, just take her. But she let Lexa have the control. 

 

It seemed like she needed it. It seemed like Lexa needed some sort of reassurance, some sort of power grab. It was nice. New. Different. _Good_ different. Sometimes it’s healthy to give up the control. It was actually a lot easier to let Lexa take the lead. She felt pleased knowing Lexa was comfortable and happy with her. 

 

“I want you guys to go on a rampage tonight. All fucking out. Every single one of you gotta be out there. If you don’t manage to hit at least one Azgeda cunt then consider yourself dead.”

 

Texting Lexa seems like a good idea. It actually seems like a great idea. But it’s also the worst idea Clarke has ever thought of. What if Lexa ignores her? What if Lexa simply wanted a one night stand? That was her latest thought, after the initial idea of Lexa simply being shy. She hasn’t texted her so maybe Clarke should just take the hint and get under someone else. 

 

She would. If it was any other girl Clarke would have been over it within a few minutes. But Lexa’s different. She feels a strong connection to her. She feels happy, even relaxed, with Lexa in her life. 

 

“Clarke!” Niylah’s rough voice breaks Clarke out of her daze. She turns her head quickly to follow Niylah’s demand with confusion painted on her face. 

 

“Huh?” She sighs and runs a hand through her roughly braided locks. Niylah then takes a step forward closer to Clarke with her arms crossed over her chest and a brow raised. 

 

“Everyone out.” She waits until the room has cleared out. Everyone hurries away with fear, knowing that Niylah’s demands are to be taken seriously. Clarke remembers the time someone simply asked why they needed to get out. The poor boy couldn’t speak out to Niylah ever again, or to anyone. He lost his tongue. “What’s on your mind.” It isn’t a question, rather a command. Clarke hesitates and mimics Niylah’s action with her arms across her chest. 

 

“Nothing.” Niylah steps forward. 

 

“Since when do you lie to me?” Clarke steps back. 

 

“I’m not lying. Just tired.” Clarke doesn’t feel intimidated around Niylah anymore. In all honesty, it’s difficult for anyone to intimidate Clarke. She had grown used to dealing with people like Niylah, so anyone else is like a butterfly compared to what Niylah has put Clarke through. 

 

“You’re lying.” She narrows her eyes but Clarke doesn’t scare away. Instead, she challengingly narrows her own. “Come here.” Niylah waits for Clarke to obediently walk forward and leans over to place a gentle kiss on Clarke’s lips. Clarke lets Niylah run her fingers through her hair, tugging a little too hard so it breaks the kiss. “You’re my favourite. You know that, right?” Clarke nods and looks into Niylah’s eyes putting a little sparkle in her looks just the way she knows Niylah lives for. She likes desperation, helplessness when it comes to her girls. “You can trust me.” She kisses her again roughly this time and steps back. 

 

“I know. I gotta run, I’ll see you tonight?” Clarke shuffles on her spot and watches her boss walk over to the table in the middle of the room. There’s a large map of the city covering most of the table. Clarke’s one of the few that have seen the other map of the country Niylah has in her private meeting room.

 

“I’m staying in. You take Bellamy and Monroe on your run.” Clarke holds in her groan and shuffles her way over to the door. She just wants to get out of here now. She wants to text Lexa. She probably should wait. 

 

“Sure thing, Boss.” 

 

“Mmm.” She mumbles, distracted. “That’s a good girl.” 

  
  


\----------

  
  


**Clarke**

_ Hey _

 

So, Clarke decides not to wait. She knows it’s a bad idea because there was only one pro on her pro-con list. She has priorities though and one of those is being a selfish bitch. She always gets what she wants. Her father used to tell her; ‘if you want something, take it no matter how hard it is to get.’ He told her it would always give her the best feeling of satisfaction and happiness. She hopes there’s satisfaction with Lexa’s reply, if she even replies. 

 

She misses her dad. She hates admitting it - Niylah used to get all moody when Clarke would mention her father. She used to tell her that feelings are what get you killed in the streets. And then Niylah decided to throw her in the streets with little-to-no training. She almost did get killed, and then when the bag was pulled from over head Niylah was standing there looking disappointed. ‘Be sneaky next time’ she said. Be quiet. As quiet as a mosquito. 

 

That’s a unique phrase. It was Niylah’s way of adding her own spin, having her own saying, wanting to be remembered. She has never been caught, like a mosquito that sucks the blood out of a person overnight. No one knows what’s happened until they wake up and feel something different, until they wake up and see the damage done. 

 

**Lexa**

_ Hello Clarke.  _

 

Clarke jumps up at the buzzing from her phone. Lexa texted back. It isn’t much, a bit too formal but Clarke’s not picky. She doesn’t want to overthink this. She’s going to be straightforward. She’s going to take what she wants. Well, not literally take. Consent is important. And of course if Lexa actually just wanted a one night stand then Clarke’s not one to push. 

 

She begins to type, ‘Hey! How you doing?’ but stops herself and deletes the whole thing. She already said ‘hey’. Why can’t she just be normal? Why does she had to be awkward all of a sudden? She’s never like this. She types again. And again. And fucking again. God, it’s been like 10 minutes and Clarke still hasn’t sent a reply.

 

**Clarke**

_ Im in the mood for icecream  _

 

What in the fuck. Of all things, that’s the first that comes to her head when she told herself to just be honest. Fucking icecream. Lexa must think she’s a fucking child.

 

Clarke likes to think Lexa comes from a more sophisticated background than herself. That would definitely explain why Lexa’s so formal all the time. Maybe her parents are royalty. Okay, Clarke knows that sometimes her overthinking is a little far-fetched because if Lexa is royalty then she’d be living in castle. Right? Who would pass up on living in a castle?

 

**Lexa**

_ What’s your favourite flavour? _

 

Lexa’s engaging response is unexpected, but Clarke’s happy nonetheless. So maybe she doesn’t like castles. It sounds like they can be lonely places sometimes. Lexa doesn’t seem like a lonely person. Anyone who is friends with Anya can’t be a lonely person. Anya’s got a strong personality, incredibly outgoing, very social. Lexa must share some qualities with her, right?

 

**Clarke**

_ Strawberry. but fun fact, I dont like the fruit _

 

She knows it’s not really a fun fact.

 

**Lexa**

_ That’s quite unusual. I buy strawberries at least once a week. But I hate it when companies try to remake the flavour with sweets and other things. It always tastes horrible.  _

 

Clarke doesn’t really understand why Lexa’s always formal, but she does find it cute. Very cute. She’s adorable and Clarke’s actually surprised no one’s taken her for themselves yet. She’s happy though, she’s not complaining. She just wants to spend more time with Lexa, find out more about her, learn about her past, future plans, who influenced her, why she’s the way she is now. 

 

**Clarke**

_ Im the opposite lol. I eat anythin strawberry flavoured _

 

She wants to know why Lexa was so hesitant when they slept together. Who had hurt her in the past? Who could possibly want to hurt Lexa? 

 

**Lexa**

_ Interesting.  _

 

It isn’t actually that interesting, but Clarke’s grateful for the white lie. Or maybe Lexa actually did think it was interesting, but she’s just, awkward? Blunt? Maybe that’s just her personality. 

 

**Clarke**

_ Wbu? fav icecream flavour? _

 

She verbally cringes at how informal and stupid she sounds in comparison to Lexa. She really does act like a child sometimes. She should listen to Raven more often. 

 

**Lexa**

_ Mint chocolate chip. I’m not very picky, I’ll try anything and everything there is. What is there to lose in trying? _

 

Lexa’s right. What is there to lose? 

 

**Clarke**

_ Wanna go out for icecream? _

 

Her fucking dignity. That’s what there is to lose. How fucking childish could she possibly sound? In their twenties, adults, going out for ice cream. Lexa must think she’s a fucking joke. 

 

**Lexa**

_ Send me your address.  _

 

Woah. She glances down at her stained tracksuit bottoms and tank top before running to her room. A few seconds later she runs back, grabs her phone and replies before Lexa changes her mind. 

 

She’s going out with Lexa. She’s going out for ice cream, with Lexa. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Time is something very precious to Anya. Raven knows that and she’s been nothing to patient from the day they met - patient in terms of feelings, there was no patience when it came to physical desires. 

 

Anya likes her space, she’s always liked her space. When she was six years of age, she spent four hours locked in her room when her mother shouted at her. She hated it. But she never let her mother see how angry she was. Instead, Anya ran to her room and pushed her wardrobe against the door. She ignored the pounding on the door from both her parents, she didn’t hear them.

 

She developed that skill of shutting everything and everyone out. She hates noise. 

 

Anya likes her space. She sat and simply let her thoughts run. She let her mind just think and be free. Usually, she has too many thoughts in her head, they’re always disorganised. So Anya needs space and time, peace and quiet, to organise her thoughts. 

 

“An? I want Chinese.” Anya looks down at her adorable girlfriend in her arms and simply nods at her. She’s not in the mood for Chinese food but know there’s no point arguing with Raven over food - that girl turns into something else when it comes to her stomach. 

 

“Sure thing, baby girl. Delivery or you up for eating out?” Raven smirks as she drags her lips faintly from Anya’s neck to her ear. 

 

“I’m definitely up for eating out, but let’s save that for dessert.” Raven’s practically the only person that can make Anya blush. She’s not ashamed; why would she be? Raven’s worth appearing vulnerable for. 

 

“Cheeky.” They sit in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s bodies fit together. 

 

Anya’s comfortable with Raven. She knows that it’s because of the time thing. Raven’s fucking patient, really fucking patient. And Anya figured out early in their relationship that Raven can be the most patient person when she really wants something, or someone. If they go shopping and they’re out of a certain type of meat, chips, whatever it is, she’ll ask and wait days to get it. She’ll wait months for an entire season of a show to be out because she enjoys binge watching. She waited for Anya. And that’s more than anyone has ever done for her. 

 

“Do you think we did a good thing?” Anya hums and looks down at Raven with a raised brow. 

 

“With?” 

 

“With Lexa and Clarke. Did we create something good?” Maybe they did. Anya knows near to nothing about Clarke. All she knows is that Raven trusts her more than anyone in her life - apart from Anya herself of course. But Anya knows Lexa. Anya knows that Lexa really needs someone special, someone patient. She hopes that if Raven is this patient, then she must have rubbed off on Clarke too. 

 

“Honestly? I don’t know. But I sure hope we did.” She just wants her best friend to smile again. She misses that more than anything. “Where does Clarke work, by the way?” 

 

“She does art. Sells her paintings and stuff. And for extra money on the side she works overnight in a gallery.” Anya hums and leans back with a sigh. Raven nuzzles her face into the crook of Anya’s neck and softly scratches her abs. Anya thinks they’ve done something good. Artistic is Lexa’s type. Costia was artistic. 

  
  


\-----------

  
  


The sun streaks between the trees, the wind paired with a light breeze, the nightingale sings love songs as the pair walk through the park. Everything seems to be going perfectly for Clarke, hand brushing Lexa’s every minute or so. She thought she was going to regret texting her. 

 

She regrets nothing at this point.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve never been skinny dipping. It’s a must. Did you not got to college?” Clarke laughs obnoxiously loud - she knows it came off as obnoxious from the glares she gets from strangers walking next to the pair. But she ignores them because Lexa’s right next to her with her hair up in a ponytail, ice cream cone in her left hand, right hand brushing softly against Clarke’s. How can she possibly move her attention elsewhere?

 

“I did. But as you can probably tell, I was concentrated on my studies more than partying and the social life.” Clarke pays close attention to the way the corner of Lexa’s lips twist up just slightly. 

 

Clarke’s college life was definitely something she doesn’t remember. Not because it’s not memorable, but because she spent the majority of it blackout drunk or high. Raven was a little more serious when it came to her studies. Clarke was under a lot of pressure from her mother - her dad was definitely the more lenient parent - but this was during her first two years. By the third, her parents were gone and there was not coming back from that. She barely remembers her third year. She failed. Obviously. 

 

“Don’t be offended by my assumption, but I figured you had quite strict parents?” Lexa isn’t offended. She simply smiles at Clarke, oh God her smile. How can you be attracted to teeth? 

 

“Yes, I guess that is a good way to describe them. But it was more complicated than that.” Most things are more complicated than they look on the outside. They walk past a woman pushing a pram with twins. Clarke can’t help the smile on her face and notices Lexa smiling too. There’s an innocence when it comes to children that’s quite difficult to describe. 

 

“Everything’s more complicated.” Lexa gives Clarke an expression close to a confused puppy. So goddamn adorable. “Okay, take a look around. What do you see?” The brunette licks her cone as she glances around with curious eyes, brows knitted together. 

 

“People. Dogs. Trees.” She creates a small list of their surroundings. Clarke stops walking and leans against the nearest tree just watching Lexa. 

 

“Pay attention.” The brunette takes a minute to look, searching as if Clarke’s asking her to find Waldo or something impossible. Clarke takes a mental picture of Lexa looking so focussed, only for her to sketch later on. Some people have found it creepy when she does that, but it’s just an expression of her emotions. Either way she doesn’t want to risk freaking Lexa out, so she’ll keep her sketches a secret for now. 

 

“I’m confused.” Lexa stops searching once she looks at Clarke smirking at her. 

 

“Okay. I’ll tell you what I see. I see that couple over there sitting against that tree, cuddled up together. What’s their story? How’d they meet? Are they in love? Are they at a breaking point? Is one of them thinking of breaking up with the other?” The look on Lexa’s face is enough for Clarke to be proud of herself for bringing up this topic. 

 

Lexa’s so beautiful. Her eyes are brighter than they were a few minutes ago, a little more open, like she’s being more observant. Clarke’s happy she’s able to influence Lexa like this. 

 

“I guess I’ve never really paid attention to things like that. It is quite fascinating though.” They start strolling down the path again finishing off their ice cream cones. 

 

“It’s more than fascinating. It’s just fucking incredible. Like sometimes we get so self-absorbed with our own problems, and then I just take a walk and look around and realise that everyone has problems of their own.” 

 

“Everyone has a story.” Lexa finishes off Clarke’s rambling and the blonde can say she’s happy with the way they’re connecting. She hopes Lexa thinks of her the same way, but Clarke’s not an idiot. She knows this will likely end up being one-sided. 

 

“That’s like, a book for each person based on their lives.” Clarke’s sure she looks like an overly excited child right now. She can’t help herself sometimes, especially when it’s over a topic she’s passionate about. 

 

“Some of those books would be pretty boring.” They come to a stop again, this time sitting on a free bench. 

 

“Mine wouldn’t be.” Clarke’s actually tried to write a book about her life before, but she gave up when she started to lose motivation. Sometimes she questions the point of having ambition in life, of having goals. 

 

“Write it.” Lexa practically commands Clarke as her tone changes slightly. She turns her head to the side giving Clarke a raised brow as the blonde stretches her arm out and rests her head on it.

 

“Why?” 

 

“So I can read it.” Clarke chuckles and rolls her eyes, memorising the way Lexa’s looking at her.

 

“I’m more into spoken word.” She’s actually been to a few spoken word poetry open mic nights. Her dad took her when she first showed him one of her poems.  

 

“You do talk a lot.” Lexa teases with a sly grin on her fucking gorgeous face. Clarke’s sure she’s never been this attracted to someone before. 

 

“Ouch.” The blonde fake gasps as she lifts her head up and turns so she’s on her side facing Lexa directly.

 

“Didn’t say it’s a bad thing.” Lexa slides closer.

 

“Your tone said it all.” Clarke rolls her eyes, leaning back a little. 

 

“What about this tone?” Now that’s a little different. Husky, raspy, fucking sexy. She knows what she’s doing. Lexa knows how she affects Clarke. Clarke’s practically punching herself for being such a fucking idiot because she knows that she gave Lexa the control. 

 

“Now that tone says something else.” Sure, she liked being a little more free, letting Lexa take the reigns. 

 

“And now?” But this is different. She’s not submissive. Clarke is not a fucking sub. But Lexa is clearly not a sub either. It’s just a battle at this point - that’s what Clarke is trying to convince herself even though she knows Lexa’s already won. 

 

“Keep talking.” The brunette is impossibly close to Clarke’s face. Her breath hot on Clarke’s lips, contrasting the light breeze around them. But suddenly Lexa was far and Clarke was still dazed. The only thing they can hear is the buzzing of Lexa’s phone. The brunette answers her phone and a few seconds later hangs up with a sigh and a cold look on her face. 

 

“I’m sorry, I have to get back to work.” She stands up quickly, Clarke can feel that Lexa is already distancing herself. She also stands up and decides on a bold move to reach forward and grab Lexa’s hand gently. 

 

“That’s okay.” They stand in silence for a moment or two as Lexa narrows her eyes just lightly, as if trying to get a read on Clarke and her intentions. 

 

“This was nice.” Her tone is formal, yet again. 

 

“We should do it again sometime.” Clarke gives a friendly smile, hoping to comfort Lexa. But all she gets is a nod. 

 

“I’ll give you a call later.” Lexa drops her hand from Clarke’s and looks over her shoulder, to the side, behind Clarke’s shoulder, anywhere but Clarke’s eyes. 

 

“I’ll make sure I’m free when you do.” 

 

“Bye Clarke.” Another nod before she walks away. 

 

“Bye Lexa.” 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Bellamy’s clearly in a pissy mood today. Clarke’s not sure why and she doesn’t really want to know, because she’s in a pretty weird mood too. She’s thinking about Lexa. She’s been thinking about Lexa all day, since their short walk in the park during Lexa’s work break. 

 

There was something there. There was definitely something there between the pair - a spark maybe? Or is it just desire? It had to be more than desire, because Lexa pulled back before they could kiss at the park. That phone call did something to her. It closed her off to Clarke, and ‘why’ is the only thing on Clarke’s mind. 

 

“Where’d you wanna go?” She shrugs her shoulders carelessly at Bellamy’s question. Monroe gives her a weird look as she turns round from the front seat. 

 

“You call the shots.” Monroe says in a questioning and cautious tone. She’s scared of Clarke. The blonde’s not very happy with that, but sometimes she likes the authority, or the respect. There’s a big difference between obedience out of respect and out of fear. 

 

“Not today. You guys can pick.” She stares out the window of the car as her hand works effortlessly in loading and unloading the gun in her hand. 

 

She’s thinking about her mother. How she’d be feeling right now if she saw how Clarke has turned out. She’d be beyond angry, upset, hysterical. The image does make Clarke feel like laughing a little. But it also makes her stomach drop a little. She doesn’t know if it’s because she knows her mother would be disappointed in her, or maybe it’s because Clarke’s the one who has never actually felt the need to live up to her mother’s impossible expectations. Medicine at college was the worst decision of her life. But she always tried to please her mother. It feels a little shit that even in her grave, Clarke’s mother would be so fucking disappointed in her. 

 

“Wow. Okay. Bell, let’s pick the location with the most inexperienced Azgeda assholes.” Clarke vaguely listens to the conversation between Monroe and Bellamy. 

 

“Youngers? I’m not killing youngers.” Bellamy has always been the one with morals. He cares too much, he sees the innocence in people. 

 

“They made their own choices.” Clarke’s authoritative tone comes through. There’s no innocence left in their line of work. 

 

“Listen Clarke. We may have made our own choices here but we know nothing about their way of recruitment. What if they were blackmailed? Dragged off the streets? They’re just kids.” He’s pissy. Clarke doesn’t know why. And she doesn’t care either. 

 

“So was I.” She looks him in the eyes through the driving mirror. He doesn’t look happy. But he doesn’t look angry either. His eyes drifted back onto the road with a sigh. 

 

“There’s no point arguing with you right now, is there?” Clarke rolls her eyes. 

 

“You fucking pick a location, Bellamy. I couldn’t fucking care less.” 

 

“Right.” Now he sounds angry. That’s what she wants. They need to be angry and nothing else, or this mission will fail. 

 

She can’t disappoint Niylah. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im FUCKING SORRY OKAY  
> i know i've taken my time but i had the biggest writers block ever  
> forgive me  
> and smut will come soon don't you worry
> 
>  
> 
> leave kudos and comments :)
> 
> let me know what you like, what you don't like, what you want, what you don't want


	4. Take Care Of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

“Oh, oh God, right fucking there!” Lexa holds down the blonde’s hips as she began to roll, shake, twist, begging for release. “Fuck! So good, so fucking good, oh God.” Lexa feels fingers clawing her scalp, pulling her locks, releasing, pushing her head impossibly close. 

 

“Close?” Lexa mumbles as she thrusts her fingers a little harder, swiping her tongue a little rougher. She smirks at the blonde’s moans.

 

“So fucking close.” The blonde pants as she glances down to meet Lexa’s predatory eyes. It’s intense. Lexa isn’t one for eye contact during sex, at least when it’s meaningless to her. Looking into someone’s eyes when they’re reaching their climax, putting their vulnerability into her hands, their trust, emotions. The eyes reveal everything. 

 

Lexa’s fingers go faster, harder, faster, harder. She twirls her tongue, wraps her mouth around the blonde’s clit, sucks and sucks. The sounds are absolutely filthy, Lexa can’t help but throb, clench her thighs. She’s disgusted with herself. 

 

“Cum. Now, Clarke.” Her tone is oozing with power, with command, and control. It’s something Lexa isn’t used to. It’s fresh, but fresh like the first drag of a cigarette after a few months clean. A quick addiction, exhilarating, with a little guilt there. Or a lot of guilt. 

 

“Oh, Lex, oh,” Clarke tightens around Lexa’s fingers, pulsing, throbbing. Moaning, squealing, groaning. “I’m, fuck!” Lexa lets her ride out her orgasm, gentle strokes, slow, wet. She swipes her tongue through Clarke’s slit, her moans vibrating through the blonde who shivers at the feeling. As she pulls her fingers out, intending to wipe them on the bed sheets, Clarke grabs her wrist and pulls the brunette up. Lexa tries. She really tries, but she can’t help the little gasp, mouth drop, throbbing, watching Clarke’s mouth suck on her fingers, suck her own juices. 

 

Lexa shakes her head with a little playful grin before pulling her body away from the blonde. She stands up and walks over to her little desk to get some work done. She ignores Clarke’s protests in the background.

 

“Let me return the favour. Come back. Please.” Lexa shakes her head, refusing to turn around and look at Clarke. 

 

She can’t pinpoint when it became clear to her that she’s hurting Clarke. It may have been after the first night, when she left immediately. Maybe it was their little ice cream date. Lexa knows she’s not the best person to talk to, she knows she’s closed off. She knows it hurts people. But Clarke is not a person she wants to get close to - emotionally at least. But Lexa is a smart girl. She also knows that emotional connection is necessary in these situations. She knows if she wants Clarke to stick around she needs to make it seem like she’s opening up a little. Lexa keeps telling herself she only needs Clarke to get to Niylah. Not for other reasons. 

 

“You can get some sleep if you want. I can drop you off tomorrow morning or whenever.” 

“I don’t want to sleep.” She can practically hear the desperation in the blonde’s voice. Lexa ignores her, typing her password into her laptop. She waits impatiently for the screen to load. 

 

“You sound tired. Exhausted, even.” She hears shuffling behind her. Clarke’s behind her, hesitantly placing her hand on the brunette’s shoulder. Lexa tries not to flinch. 

 

“I just want you, Lexa.” She wants revenge. For all Lexa knows, Clarke could have been involved in what happened. What happened. Lexa shrugs Clarke’s hand off her shoulder and clears her throat. 

 

“I’m tired, Clarke.” The blonde sighs. 

 

“Then come to bed. What could possibly be more important right now?” 

 

Lots of things are more important right now. Niylah is more important right now. Re-reading the evidence she’s collected so far is more important. Getting justice is more important right now. 

 

“I have work to do.” She can hear Clarke getting increasingly frustrated. It’s obvious in her retreat back to the bed, her quiet sighs. Lexa bites the inside of her cheek and rolls her eyes in frustration at herself. 

 

“Work can wait.” It can’t. 

 

“Clarke.” There are a few moments of silence as Clarke struggles between listening to the command in Lexa’s voice or pushing. Lexa opens a new document and writes ‘so far’ as the title. She presses enter, inserts a dash and watches the line blink. 

 

It’s waiting for her. But her mind is blank. She doesn’t know what to think right now, what to write, what to look at. She hasn’t spent more than three hours without looking through the documents, for months. Months. She knows it’s the wrong thing to do. The saying about fresh eyes is accurate and she knows that. Lexa fucking knows, she’s not an idiot, she’s smart. But she always lets emotions take control of her.

 

Anya was one of the people who saw right through her from the start. Although it seems like Lexa’s cold on the outside, it may seem like she’s all about objectivity, all serious, but she’s not. She lets things get to her way too easily. It’s her biggest flaw. She doesn’t show it. She’s good at hiding it. But all she wants to do right now is find Niylah, look her dead in the eyes, wrap her hands around her throat, and squeeze. Release and squeeze again. And she knows that as a member of law enforcement emotions should not be part of the job. She knows she has to catch Niylah, legally, bring her to justice, legally. But she also knows that if she finds Niylah before her co-workers, she will bring her own justice to that monster. She’s disgusted with herself. Lexa knows what she’s thinking about is wrong. She knows. But she also knows herself. She knows what she feels.

 

“Whatever. Goodnight.” Lexa is startled by the sudden break in silence. She looks over her shoulder to see Clarke’s back, strolling into the bathroom, likely to clean up before bed. Lexa sighs. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Clarke doesn’t want to make a big scene. She didn’t make any sort of scene, she just asked a simple question. Right? All she did was ask Lexa to come to bed. There’s nothing wrong with that. She’d understand if Lexa wasn’t in the mood, if she didn’t want to be touched, kissed by Clarke. But Clarke knows that’s not true. 

 

The look in Lexa’s eyes said everything that was needed to say. Clarke saw it. She’s not fucking hallucinating, this isn’t unrequited. Lexa wants her. But Clarke doesn’t know why she’s holding back. 

 

She looks at herself in the mirror, water dripping down her face, a bit of toothpaste still trickling from the corner of her mouth. Clarke sighs and washes her face again, and again, and again. Until she no longer feels like crying. 

 

**Boss-Niylah**

_ where are you _

 

Clarke turns the tap off, wipes her face with a towel and looks down at the phone on the counter. She isn’t in the mood for work. She’s too tired, and she figures Niylah would notice immediately from the bags under her eyes. She doesn’t let Clarke ‘work’ when she’s tired. At first, Clarke thought it’s because she cares. But she heard the phrase ‘sloppy’ once when Niylah was punishing a newbie. 

 

She wants to run herself a bath. She wants candles, all sorts of relaxing scents, warm water letting her soak and sleep. Most importantly, she wants Lexa laying there with her. But she can’t have that. She’s not used to not getting what she wants. Her parents had always spoilt her as a kid, giving her anything she asked for, from dolls, to that small pink car when she was five, to a professional - and very expensive - art set at 15 when she simply said she was interested in it. And when they, well, when they left, Clarke had to learn that part of being a human being in society is earning things. Working for something. Nothing is handed to you, you have to grab and take. 

 

Lexa wants her. But Clarke figures that she needs to earn Lexa. Earn her trust. Be someone the brunette can trust. But, can Clarke trust Lexa at this point, at least with her career path? If she tells Lexa, the brunette doesn’t feel enough for Clarke to stay, if she keeps this from Lexa, the brunette will find out eventually and if she feels for Clarke she’ll be betrayed. 

 

The eyes reveal everything. Clarke’s going to avoid those eyes, as much as she loves looking into them. She sighs and turns the door handle. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Lexa jumps slightly in her chair as the door opens. She hears Clarke chuckle lightly, but loud enough for Lexa to hear her. The brunette turns around to acknowledge her as she gets into bed. She needs to apologise. She knows she’s a bit of a dick to Clarke. Maybe opening up will make Clarke trust her more. 

 

“Hey. You okay?” Lexa turns around in her swivel chair, with her arms crossed over her chest. She knows it’s one of her defence mechanisms, but hopes Clarke hasn’t figured that out yet.

 

“I’m fine.” Refusing eye contact is clearly one of Clarke’s defence mechanisms. Lexa watches as the blonde crawls into bed, propping herself up against the pillows with the blanket up to her chin. She’s pouting, as she always is. 

 

“Listen. I owe you an apology.” It’s not a lie. Lexa does owe Clarke an apology for lying to her, for having bad intentions, for being manipulative. Lexa still knows near-to-nothing about the case, about who did what, what happened exactly. Who is innocent and who is guilty. Yet she made the assumption of Clarke’s guilt on their first meeting. It was a shitty thing. 

 

But Lexa can’t apologise for that. She has a good heart. But she still doesn’t know if Clarke does too. She doesn’t understand why she’s feeling bad about it. Why does she even care how Clarke feels about anything right now?

 

“Lexa, it’s fine. Don’t worry.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. 

 

“I’m not worried.” That’s a little harsh, Lexa notices in the frown taking over Clarke’s features. “It’s not a matter of fine or not, what I’ve been doing is wrong and not fair to you.” And taking Costia away from Lexa was also wrong and unfair. She makes sure to keep reminding herself. 

 

“I-I don’t know what to say to be honest with you.” Clarke’s brows rise a little, probably in shock. Lexa takes that as a good sign to carry on. The blonde sits up a little, paying closer attention to Lexa’s words.

 

“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll talk.” Lexa sighs, stands up, and sits on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s difficult to, I know it’s hard, fuck I don’t know what I’m doing.” She lets out a breathy laugh and turns her back to Clarke. 

 

She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s definitely not the manipulative type. Lexa’s a good person. She’s always been a good person, fighting for the good of the country, the good of humanity, fighting for people to be safe and happy and content. Yet, Clarke is not one of the those people. Lexa doesn’t understand herself, she’s reached a new part of her mind that hasn’t been touched before. She’s read it in the books, studied it, watched it in documentaries, movies, shows - she knows that revenge can drive people to do crazy things. She just didn’t think she’d be one of those people.

 

“Hey, it’s fine. Seriously, I get it. Thank you. For trying.” Clarke’s hand is back on Lexa’s shoulder, but she doesn’t flinch this time. Instead she decides to place her own hand on top of Clarke’s. 

 

“Don’t thank me. I’m just, I don’t know. It’s been awhile since I’ve done this. You know, you are the first person I’ve let touch me since Costia.” Lexa lets out a laugh in disbelief, but then freezes at Clarke’s response.

 

“Since who?”

 

Oh. Fuck. She thought out loud. She must have been thinking out loud because there’s no way she trusts Clarke enough to even have a conversations about past relationships. Maybe it’s comfort, maybe it’s Clarke’s hand on her shoulder, Clarke’s soothing tone. Just a bunch of comforting characteristics that psychologically calmed her. It had to be that. 

 

Judging by Clarke’s reaction, the blonde doesn’t know Costia. Maybe she didn’t participate. Maybe she’s not ranked high. Or maybe she’s killed so many people she doesn’t bother taking names. 

 

“Oh. I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Forget that.” Lexa stands back up, letting Clarke’s hand drop onto the bed sheets clutching. She marches back to her chair, turns it round and sits facing her laptop again. She types ‘Clarke could be involved’ 

 

She has to keep reminding herself. 

 

“I-Okay.” She hears shuffling. 

 

“Goodnight, Clarke.” Her tone is harsh again. She regrets even attempting to appear more open to Clarke. 

 

“Goodnight Lexa.” 

 

\----------

  
  


It’s been an hour. Clarke’s phone has been buzzing a few times and Lexa has been fighting the urge to check it. She should though. It’s just work, right? It’s how she breaks this case. She needs to snoop. That’s the whole reasoning behind this. 

 

She tells herself it’s okay and autosaves the document before standing up, trying to make sure the chair doesn’t squeak. It’s an old one. She’s been meaning to buy a new one. Clarke’s asleep. She hopes the blonde isn’t a light sleeper, but she guesses she isn’t considering the buzzing from her phone hasn’t woken her up yet. 

 

Lexa takes a moment to look at Clarke. She looks as innocent as one can look when sleeping. The look on her face is confused though. No, not confused. Clarke looks scared. Maybe she’s having a nightmare, a bad dream? Lexa read somewhere that people who look scared or upset while sleeping are the ones who hide those emotions while they’re awake. Clarke isn’t the type that hides her feelings. That much is obvious by the way she treats Lexa, the way she makes her intentions clear, how she asks for what she wants. 

 

The phone buzzes again. Lexa’s attention is drawn away from Clarke with a quiet grunt. She’s angry at herself. Of course she’s fucking angry at herself. But this is her job. She gently grabs the phone from the table. There’s a few missed phone calls, all from one person. 

 

**Boss-Niylah**

_ where are you _

_ I fucking asked you a question. _

_ Clarke? _

_ I need you to take care of something. _

_ are you okay? _

_ I’m sending Bellamy to your place. _

_ He said you’re not there. Where are you Clarke? _

_ Baby girl? _

_ If your not dead, you will be. _

 

**Ring The Bell**

_ Boss is mad at u _

_ Didnt tell her ur gettin some, u know how she gets with u _

_ Good luck _

 

Lexa almost drops the phone at ‘baby girl’ but she shouldn’t be surprised. Of course Clarke is sleeping with the enemy. Ironic. That’s one thing they have in common. Lexa sighs and goes back to her desk with the phone. She plugs it into the wire that’s connected to her laptop. She types ‘Bellamy?’ into the document before unlocking the phone after surprisingly seeing Clarke doesn’t have a passcode. The contents of the phone begin to sync with her laptop, all downloading into her files. All photos, videos, texts, emails, even her fucking games. Lexa feels worse than she did before. This is someone’s personal life, her privacy that is being breached. 

 

But if Clarke really is sleeping with Niylah, maybe more, then does is make it okay? Does it make it any easier? Lexa thinks it should make it easier. She knows that this information at least makes her very angry. Angry, upset, and confused at being angry and upset. She shouldn’t be feeling this. In fact, anyone else would be happy, because this means there’s a stronger link between Clarke and Niylah. 

 

‘Baby girl’. That’s more than simply sleeping with each other. That implies feelings, emotions. It means Niylah cares about Clarke. Lexa notes this down in her document. She also notes that amount of texts, calls, all received in less than an hour. Niylah seems to sound worried. She even sent this Bellamy guy to check up on her Clarke. She really does seem to care about her. 

 

This Bellamy guy, Lexa assumes he’s ‘Ring the Bell’. He must be close to both Clarke and Niylah, but closer to Clarke considering he lied to his boss for her. He does seem to know that Clarke is ‘getting some’. Niylah must trust him if she has him on command to go find Clarke. Lexa reminds herself to ask Clarke about her close friends and family later, maybe ‘open up’ a little more to her. She has to think of some lies, something small. She didn’t trust Clarke before and she definately trusts her even less now. She’s not giving any more information than she already accidentally spilled. 

 

The notification comes up on her laptop letting her know the download is complete. Lexa unplugs the phone and locks it, putting it back on the table next to Clarke’s head. She looks at the blonde once more, watching her move a little, make a small sound of discomfort before coming to a stop. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


“What are you doing here?” Niylah’s pissed at her. She’s fuming by the looks of it. She won’t even look at Clarke, yet somehow knows that she just walked into her office. 

 

“I’m sorry.” Clarke sighs out. She shouldn’t be apologising. But it’s what Niylah wants to hear. She’s always got to be the pleaser. 

 

“Get the fuck out.” So this is how she wants to act. Clarke has been getting gradually more annoyed at Niylah for the past few weeks. She’s being overly controlling, always angry, moody, and putting way too much on Clarke. She can’t handle every single fucking job. That’s why they go looking for recruitments every month; for more people to work. 

 

“Niylah, I’m allowed to be busy.” She walks over to the desk, leaning her hands on it. She flinches as Niylah catches her eyes. She’s beyond angry. 

 

“Are you fucking serious right now, Clarke? You’re talking to me like that?” She sighs again, this time sitting down on the coach to the right. Niylah leans back in her chair with a firm glare on her face. 

 

Clarke’s never liked overly controlling people. Maybe it’s because she’s never experienced that sort of relationship dynamic in her life. Her parents had been all about Clarke and her freedom. They loved each other a lot, like a crazy amount. Always going on date nights, always encouraging Clarke to also find love. Her dad would get happy when Clarke said she’s going out to a party, or to watch the school football game, all because he had this idea stuck in her mind that she’ll meet some guy and it’ll be this cliche love at first sight thing. That never happened. 

 

“I have a life to live, I have places to be, people to see.” Niylah isn’t glaring anymore. It’s more of a dangerous look. Like the calm before the storm.

 

Raven, Bellamy, most of her friendships have been easy too. She’s always one to take her space when she needs it, and she won’t have the two blowing up her phone. Maybe a text or two if she’s gone for too long, purely out of concern. But never more than that. Clarke’s always been the one in control. 

 

“Don’t fucking forget that I gave you that life.” That one hurt. It stings just a little that Niylah would bring it up. She must have noticed that it hurt, considering Niylah is getting up and making her way to the couch, less anger on her face. Maybe it’s disappointment. 

 

“Listen. I’m sorry for not responding. I was asleep.” She was asleep. After she decided she was going to ignore Niylah for the night. 

 

“My calls and texts are meant to be priority.” But Lexa was her priority last night. She didn’t want to have to leave. Even if she was sleeping, it meant Lexa was with her, close proxmity. It meant she could possibly wake up to the brunette making her a cup of coffee, or getting ready for work. 

 

Clarke hates being controlled. But Lexa. Lexa is a whole different story. Lexa simply looks at her and Clarke is willing to drop everything. She has no clue what it is about the brunette. Maybe it’s just this weird honeymoon type phase. People get that all the time, when you sleep with someone who is practically an angel, what else can you feel? Admiration, awe, you can’t get enough of beauty like that. It’s just physical attraction. Strong, very fucking strong physical attraction. 

 

“I’m sorry. I haven’t had a good nights sleep for a while. God, I’m exhausted. So fucking exhausted.” Clarke drops her head back against the couch. She waits for Niylah to say something as it’s silent for a few seconds.

 

“I-I didn’t realise I was pushing you that far.” She looks a little, sad maybe? Regret at getting angry at Clarke? Clarke sighs, turning her head to face Niylah properly. 

 

“No, you weren’t. I’ve just had a lot on my mind recently.” Niylah raises her hand to Clarke’s cheek, stroking gently. 

 

“You know you can always come to me about that, baby girl.” Clarke chuckles. She appreciates Niylah’s feelings. But doesn’t feel the same. She can’t trust her. Not fully, at least. Yes, Niylah cared for her when she lost everything. But Niylah also lied to her, cheated on her, manipulated her, hurt her. Now that Clarke looks back, she knows that’s just how Niylah is. Clarke was young and naive. But that doesn’t erase the fact that it happened. 

 

“The last time I did, there were two naked girls in your bed.” Niylah retrieves her hand and leans back against the armrest of the couch. Her legs are open slightly, maybe for comfort. 

 

“That’s purely physical. It’s routine, it’s a way of taking care of your body. Sex is relief.” She knows that. Sex is relief. It’s helped her with stressful times, angry times, sad times, empty times, all types of times. But she can’t help it when her mind drifts to Lexa, because she’s not just relief. 

 

“Right.” She looks at Niylah who was a smirk on her face. One of her seductive ones. Clarke knows what Niylah wants most of the time. 

 

“You’re more than that. You’re my favourite.” The look on her face is one that’s asking Clarke to come closer. 

 

“I know.” Clarke doesn’t come any closer, even with Niylah nudging her with her foot. So Niylah goes on. 

 

“I care about you. In my own fucked up way, I care about you. That’s the only reason to why I act like that.” Niylah does care about her. Clarke knows that. Maybe Niylah even loves her. She wouldn’t be surprised. But Niylah’s love isn’t what she wants. Because Niylah’s love is not complete. It’s not about loyalty, not about committment. It’s about fun. It’s about control. It’s about Niylah getting what she wants rather than giving what Clarke needs. She doesn’t blame her for it. Maybe at one point she did, but she doesn’t anymore. 

 

“Yeah. It’s fine. So what did you need last night?” Clarke takes her jacket off, throwing it on the other side of the couch. She traces Niylah’s calf with her fingers. 

 

“In all honesty? I missed you.” Clarke smirks. She hasn’t heard that in awhile from Niylah. Maybe it’s because they haven’t spent time together. 

 

“Oh?” She leans closer, crawling over her, inbetween her legs. 

 

“Mhm. Very much.” Niylah hums, happy with Clarke’s new position. Clarke leans into Niylah’s hand which is back on her cheek, thumb gently caressing her skin. It’s comforting. 

 

“Did you…?” 

 

“I didn’t call anyone else. Only thought of you.” Niylah pulls Clarke’s face closer to hers, nose touching nose. 

 

“So, that’s what you meant when you said you wanted me to take care of something? Of you?” She leans forward, letting their lips brush together. Clarke fits perfectly between Niylah’s leg, feeling her wrapping her legs around Clarke’s waist, trapping her. 

 

“Yes, baby girl. Can you do that for me?” Clarke leans forward again, kissing her more aggressively, biting Niylah’s bottom lip as she pulls away. Lexa didn’t let Clarke take care of her. 

 

“At your command.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave kudos and comments :)
> 
> let me know what you like, what you don't like, what you want, what you don't want


	5. Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

Coffee with Clarke, she’d come to call it. It rhymed, she said, but she remembers Clarke corrected her with alliteration. Raven’s never been the best with grammar, english, literature. She’s not much of a reader. It’s not her thing.

 

She used to say there were only two types of people in this world; people who read and people who do. But then she met Anya, in a coffee shop, when Clarke cancelled on her last minute. Anya, with her strong and captivating cheekbones, waiting in cue reading a book - Nineteen Eighty-Four which Anya eventually made Raven read too - with a badge on her hip and her gun locked on the other side. Anya, who drifted her eyes looking out the window to see a guy in a black ski mask attempting to steal a car, and with a sigh strolled out the coffee shop, book in her hand, crept up on the culprit and slammed him against the car reading him his rights. Raven watched the whole encounter mouth hung open, especially when a cop car rolled up allowing Anya to pass the criminal on and walk back into the coffee shop reading her book very carefully.

 

“You thinking about how you met Anya again?” Clarke pulls Raven out of her daze with a snap of her fingers, chuckling as she sips her spiked coffee - Raven’s surprisingly the responsibly one in the friendship.

 

“I miss her.” The phrase comes out in a sigh and Clarke rolls her eyes harder than Raven has ever seen her do it before. She almost cringes at the words thinking back to the time before Anya came into her life when she wasn’t a pile of mush.

 

“She’s at work. Give the girl a break.” Anya’s always at work. Everything is work this, work that, files needing to be filled in, reports, late nights. Stakeouts are the worst though, when Raven has no one to hold her at night, no one to cuddle with, no one to wake up to.

 

Lately Anya’s been on a hell of a lot of stakeouts, sometimes she’s gone for days until someone tags in and switches with her for the rest of the week. Raven was never the clingy type. In fact, it was usually her partners who were too clingy for her. But Anya had stuck her fist up Raven’s ass and pulled her in. It’s not the most appealing thing she’s ever said but it was actually the way Raven first told Anya she loved her. She just rambled on and on until Anya kissed her and smirked calling her whipped.

 

“She doesn't need a break from me.” Raven sips her latte - yes she ordered a latte and no she’s not a ‘basic bitch’. She’s had enough bullying at the hands of Clarke for her choice in coffee, Clarke who screamed that Raven’s not allowed to call it coffee, rather refer to it as milk.

 

“Bitch I need a break from you if I’m with you for more than two hours. I’m sure she needs one every now and then.”

 

“Shut up. You don’t count; you have the patience of a white cop stopping a black man in a car.” Clarke grins and gives Raven a wink in agreement. The blonde does have little to no patience and Raven learned that gradually throughout their growing up together.

 

“You’re so fucking clingy.” Now Raven’s beyond offended and annoyed at Clarke’s hypocrisy.

 

“Don’t talk to me about clingy, Miss ‘Oh Lexa’s so funny, oh she did this, she said that, I need to see her.’” Raven swears if looks can kill she’d be six feet under by now. Her best friend downs the rest of her drink with a quiet grunt and a slam of her cup.

 

“I sound nothing like that. You’re so shit at impressions.” She sounds butthurt, literally acting like a child and Raven rolls her eyes and chuckles deciding to retaliate like they’re throwing playground insults. She’s learned overtime that this is simply a defence mechanism, it’s Clarke’s way of pushing people away from when they get too close to figuring her out.

 

“You’re so shit at pretending you’re a cold hearted bitch.”

 

“I am a cold hearted bitch.” The pout on her face says otherwise.

 

“What you are is a bitch. A bitch with lots of feelings for a certain brunette.” The pout is now gone, no sign of a smile, smirk, nothing but a thin line that Raven knows she’s on the verge of crossing with Clarke. But just because she’s an asshole, Raven thinks she’ll push until the blonde explodes. Maybe then she’ll finally call Lexa or at least text her.

 

“I have no fucking feelings for anyone. I don’t even have feelings towards you. You’re a fucking dickhead.” She gets up out of her seat and struggles putting her jacket on, refusing eye contact with Raven.

 

“I love you too. I’d ask you to talk to me about Lexa but you already do all the time.” She can’t help smirking as she watches her best friend get angrier, the pink on her cheeks suggesting it’s more embarrassment than anything.

 

“I hate you. I’m leaving.” She starts to walk away, glare printed onto her features, coffee cup in her hand. Raven grins and leans back in her seat. Her phone buzzes on the table and she glances at it smiling at Anya’s name on her screen.

 

“Where you going? To stalk Lexa?” Raven grabs her phone paying no attention to Clarke who is seconds away from choking Raven out and slamming her head first on the table.

 

“I’m going to trash your place and go fuck your girlfriend.” Petty and totally inaccurate. Raven chuckles and rolls her eyes opening the notification. She reminds herself to text Anya about Lexa, give her any details on anything Lexa has to say about Clarke. That’s what best friends do, right? Do anything to ease the stress and anxiety off the other’s shoulders.

 

“Ha fucking ha, you’re hilarious.”

 

“Bye.” She looks up briefly watching Clarke walk off raising her middle finger to the skies.

 

“Say hi to Lexa for me!”

 

“Say bye to my fucking ass!”

  


\----------

  


**Anya <3 **

_Morning, my love. Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up <3 _

 

If Lexa knew how Anya talked to Raven, she’d never let her live it down. It’d be constant teasing, constant knowing smirks coming her way, almost all respect for the power dynamic will be lost.

 

Anya’s the type of person to demand respect without really saying anything. Her presence says enough. She has a certain type of walk, a determined walk, a powerful walk, a walk that attracts all eyes and makes it clear that she means business and will step over anyone that gets in her way.

 

Lexa on the other hand demands respect through her reputation. Everyone knows she’s a great detective, everyone knows who her father is, everyone knows the shit that she’s been through with the murder of Costia. But the aspect of power, now that comes all from the eyes. A striking green, always changing colour from dark to light, always refraining from showing emotion yet somehow one look and everyone knows whether she’s in the mood to be approached or not.

 

Today’s the type of day where Lexa can handle being talked to, as long as it’s work related. Small talk has never been her thing but when she’s in a bad mood she will walk away from a conversation at the realisation that it’s only small talk.

 

**Rae-Bae**

_I missed you :(_

_Work again?_

 

She sighs at the texts knowing Raven’s feeling a little stressed out and exhausted. She knows her girlfriend well enough to know that she gets moody and unnecessarily angry when she starts to miss Anya.

 

**Anya <3 **

_Yeah, I’m sorry my love. I’ll make it up to you._

 

**Rae-Bae**

_Hard to do that when you leave before I’m awake and come back when I’m already asleep._

 

Anya frowns at the text, refusing to have an argument over this again. She’s not the type to discuss work with her significant other; it’s classified information, it’s nothing to do with love and relationships. Work and personal life should be kept seperate.

 

**Anya <3**

_I’m not doing this again. I’ll see if I can drop by for a break later, okay?_

 

**Rae-Bae**

_Don’t bother. I made plans with a new friend._

 

She pauses and looks down with a raised brow. Lexa notices immediately and rolls her eyes not wanting to get involved in Anya’s personal life. Said girl glances up at Lexa who quickly averts her eyes back down to the document she’s trying to fill in.

 

**Anya <3**

_Who?_

 

**Rae-Bae**

_Just this girl I met once grabbing coffee_

 

“What the fuck?” Anya mumbles gaining the attention of Lexa who sighs and puts down her pen. The only reason she’ll be talking to Anya is because she’d rather her partner be focused at a time like this.

 

**Anya <3**

_Full name?_

_DOB?_

_Sexual orientation?_

 

“You okay?” Lexa asks with an expression that to anyone other than Anya would suggest she doesn’t give a single fuck even though she’s asking the question. But Anya knows otherwise and shrugs her off for a minute waiting for Raven to reply.

 

**Rae-Bae**

_Octavia Blake_

_Idk but she’s 24_

_Bi_

 

“Woods. Search up an ‘Octavia Blake’ in the system.” Lexa raises a brow and chuckles.

 

“I’m not even going to ask.”

 

**Anya <3 **

_Cool. Have fun._

 

Anya’s not an asshole. But she knows it’s unfair of her to act like this over a simple hangout with a friend. But she knows nothing of this girl to know her intentions with Raven, to know if she’s a good or bad influence, the type of person she is, who she’s involved with. And Raven is her girlfriend. She has every right to know who her friends are. It’s just her way of caring and protecting the person she loves.

 

**Rae-Bae**

_Now you’re mad._

_Hot._

 

“Here.” Anya sends Raven a quick end to the conversation before putting her phone away and sliding her swivel chair over to Lexa’s side of the desk.

 

**Anya <3**

_Ttyl._

 

**Rae-Bae**

_:(_

 

“Nothing serious here. Only arrested once. Too intoxicated, seen as a harm and danger to herself and others. Was fighting her boyfriend, things got bloody.” Anya listens to Lexa’s words carefully as she scans the screen. The mugshot is what surprises her the most. With blood over her knuckles which are holding the board, mascara running across and down her cheeks and some red streaks around her face, she still looks good. It’s the eyes. There’s something about them. Anya can’t help the jealousy sparking in her.

 

“So she’s prone to violence. And also an alcoholic.” They’re harsh judgements but Anya can’t really think straight right now. It’s taking everything in her not to track Raven’s phone and stalk the pair.

 

She’s always been the jealous type but she doesn’t like showing it. She likes looking secure and trusting. She is trusting. Maybe just not secure. Raven could leave her for anyone that comes along that is more beautiful, or makes her laugh more, someone she might just happen to click with, someone who spends more time with her and gives her the attention that Anya hasn’t been able to give her as of late.

 

“Woah. Slow down. Why are you jumping to conclusions? Only one arrest.” Anya rolls her eyes and slides back to her desk to sip on her coffee and glance at her schedule. As she already knows, she has not a single minute of free time. The gang world has been incredibly active lately, from stealing to random murders. Azgeda and Trikru are at each other’s throats and from experience Anya knows it’s the best time to strike and take them down. They’ve been bringing in young members from the streets, recognising their gang tattoos, catching them with weapons and interrogating until they have something, anything that they can use.

 

“Doesn’t mean she hasn’t done it again. Just means she hasn’t been caught.”

 

“One arrest does not indicate a pattern. Think logically. Who is she to you?” Anya grinds her teeth together, a tell for her anxiety that Lexa knows happens more often than not. Luckily Lexa understands the stress of the job, but also stresses that come with relationships and jealousy. She will never forget a single moment from her time with Costia. They had a near-perfect relationship and Anya knows Lexa can only give the best advice because of that experience. She’s always telling Anya that communication is the biggest savier of relationship problems. Usually that’s what the main issue is. But how can Raven and Anya communicate when there’s literally no time to see each other?

 

“Raven’s new friend. Who is bisexual. And from this mugshot she still looks hot even though she’s dirty and drunk.” She’s sulking and she knows she’s overreacting. Anya’s not an idiot; she’s aware that she thinks too much and creates problems out of nothing. But she doesn’t want to lose Raven. Her girlfriend will end up spending more time with Octavia, less time with Anya - if it’s even possible to spend less time together than they already do - and eventually see that Octavia can give her things that Anya can’t.

 

“Relax. Raven loves you.”

 

“I know. It’s not about trusting Raven.” Lexa interrupts her before she can go on and explain her thoughts.

 

“It’s about trusting Octavia. Why don’t you meet? Have a little party or host a dinner. I don’t know, make it a group thing and ask Raven to invite Octavia.” Lexa goes back to filling in the document as she closes the database with Octavia’s details from her computer. Anya sighs and frowns as she begins planning scenarios out in her head of what she could do, how she’s meet Octavia, what she’d say to her. If the girl ends up being innocent and clearly a good person, then who is she to tell Raven to stop hanging out with her? She’s possessive and protective, but Anya is not controlling. She’d prefer Raven to do things out of her own will.

 

“Not a bad idea. Or I can show up to her house and make sure my badge and gun are on display.” She sips on her coffee again, searching up Octavia from her own computer. It’s borderline obsessive but she keeps validating her actions by telling herself she’s just being protective.

 

“Bad idea.”

 

“I know.”

 

“How’s Clarke?” Swiftly changing the topic is one of Anya’s best abilities. Lexa isn’t the biggest fan because typically the subject Anya changes to this fast is one she doesn't want to talk about.

 

“Fine.” Anya narrows her eyes and carefully watches her best friend’s reaction to the mention of Clarke. Her shoulders stiff, eyes closing off emotions. She’s refusing to look at Anya.

 

“Just fine?”

 

“Just fine.” She wants to slide back over and poke Lexa in the face but she’s not really in the mood to get punched in the neck.

 

“Come on. You gotta give me more than that.”

 

“Look. I got some things I need to talk to you about.” Lexa? Wanting to talk about feelings? Things outside of work? Wow. Usually Anya’s the one starting conversations like that and letting Lexa open up to her. But this is a rare occasion; Lexa’s the one bringing it up.

 

“Wow. Really?”

 

“Yes. But not here with everyone around. Later tonight when most have clocked out.” Anya makes a sound sucking in air through her teeth.

 

“I kinda wanted to see if I can leave early tonight and take Raven out.” She tries her best at an apologetic smile but she knows it doesn’t look right on her face.

 

“Okay. That makes sense.”

 

“Yeah I miss her.”

 

“You sound like a pussy.”

 

“You are what you eat.”

 

“Nice.” They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Anya suddenly thinks of a perfect solution to her and Raven’s problems, as well as a way to get Lexa to talk about Clarke, or at least talk to the blonde about a little more than just sex.

 

“Hey? I got an idea. How about you take the night off too?”

 

“And do what?” Lexa rolls her eyes at Anya and puts the documents in the file cabinet under her desk. She roams through until she finds the files she needs to try dig in deeper to possible locations for Triku’s main headquarters.

 

“Come out with us. Bring Clarke. Double date?”

 

“I’m not sure about that.” Lexa’s shoulder are stiff yet again. The mention of Clarke is clearly something she’s not exactly comfortable with. Which means either Lexa is growing feelings for Clarke and is fucking terrified, or Clarke has become attached and Lexa doesn’t feel that way about her.

 

“Come on! It’ll be great. We’ll have a good time and just breathe for a little bit.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Good girl.”

 

“Do you have a death sentence?”

 

“Sorry.” It’s gonna be a great night.

  


\----------

  


**Lexa**

_Hello._

 

**Clarke**

_afternoon_

 

**Lexa**

_What about it?_

 

**Clarke**

_...just, greeting you with a good afternoon_

 

**Lexa**

_Oh._

_There’s not a ‘good’ there though._

 

**Clarke**

_Sorry_

 

**Lexa**

_Not a problem._

_Are you free tonight?_

 

**Clarke**

_For you? Always ;)_

 

**Lexa**

_Okay. Anya suggested a double date._

 

**Clarke**

_With her and Ray all over each other? Ew I see enough of that._

 

**Lexa**

_You won’t be seeing much of it if we out-do them._

 

**Clarke**

_OH OKAY IM DEFO UP FOR IT LETS GO_

_I mean cool. Yeah, sounds fun._

_When where_

 

**Lexa**

_I can pick you up._

 

**Clarke**

_From Raven and Anya’s place?_

 

**Lexa**

_If that makes you more comfortable._

 

**Clarke**

_Great! What time?_

 

**Lexa**

_8 sound good?_

 

**Clarke**

_Yeh sounds amazing. Want me to wear anything specific?_

 

**Lexa**

_Something blue._

_Brings out your eyes._

 

**Clarke**

_See you then :)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know. dont hate me. ive been stressed and so not inspired BUT HERE YOU GO SOME HEAVY RAVEN AND ANYA CONTENT but things have become tense between clarke and lexa OhhoOOOHHhhooohhoooooOOOOO
> 
>  
> 
> leave kudos and comments :)
> 
> let me know what you like, what you don't like, what you want, what you don't want


	6. Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

Although Lexa wasn’t particularly looking forward to tonight, there was more than just a few butterflies in her stomach. She hates using that phrase and wishes there was a more brutal, gross and uncomfortable phrase to match what she feels. There’s no reason for her to feel any sort of nerves because it’s Clarke. It’s Clarke, and Clarke is no one to her, at least in relation to her emotions. Clarke is just a tool that Lexa can exploit to gain information on Trikru, to take that bitch Niylah down, wrap her hands around the bitch’s neck and squeeze until she’s satisfied with the pop. 

 

Lexa’s not a violent person. She’s never been a violent person; even when provoked Lexa has always taken the stance of the bigger person. She’s studied psychology and likes to think she can understand people who don’t even understand themselves, so she lets others get angry at her, she watch them let their emotions get the best of them. And Lexa then waits for the apology or that look of guilt after the realisation that their words or actions were wrongly expressed. 

 

But today, today is different. Lexa feels uncomfortable. There’s an unsettling feeling in her gut, her chest, even her stomach has been acting up all day making the weirdest noises, creating the most painful and random aches. 

 

Today, Lexa is angry and she cannot pinpoint why, but she does know it has something to do with Clarke because the second Anya mentioned her Lexa felt all those uncomfortable feelings hit her at once. She doesn’t particularly want to go out with Anya, Raven and especially not Clarke. But yet again her principles got in the way of her decision-making, because she keeps convincing herself that she needs to maintain contact with Clarke to continue extracting information. She has yet to search the blonde’s room, track her phone for the most frequently visited locations. Lexa likes to take her time with these things to ensure nothing is missed. She just didn’t realise how much time it would take. 

 

The one thing Lexa wasn’t expecting was the guilt. This isn’t something she should be feeling about according to what Lexa thinks her boss would say, her father, even her mother. It is work. Sometimes we must do horrible things for the greater good. She thought every little thing through; she couldn’t have just pretended to be Clarke’s friend because there would have been no valid reason for her to go to her flat let alone stay the night. She also knows that letting Clarke come over and know where she lives is not her brightest idea, but she’s planning to move by the end of the year so she figured it would be easier to work and infiltrate Clarke’s phone from her own home. The only way for any of these situations to be validated is sexual or romantic relations. There’s was no way Lexa could pretend to like Clarke and date her, but sex? Sex has become almost robotic to Lexa. It’s an out of body experience, she can detach herself from the person, make it purely physical. 

 

What Lexa didn’t expect was the guilt; at points she gets angry at herself for stooping so low, for hurting another human being like that. She keeps reminding herself that Clarke is a murderer, Clarke is a gang member, Clarke could have aided Niylah in the murder of her future, her love, her Costia. But then again, the guilty side argues with what if. What if Clarke hadn’t been involved? What if Clarke hasn’t murdered anyone? What if Clarke has had such a rough background and was simply given a home with Niylah? She’s seen the youth, knowing most of them are orphans and are able to have a place to live and food to survive, all because Niylah provided them with it. But at the expense of their humanity?

  
  


\----------

  
  


Lexa takes a deep breath before knocking on the door and then rolls her eyes at herself for the deep breath. There’s no need for the nerves. Why is she even nervous? It’s illogical.

 

“Suit? Really?” She turns her head at the sound of the door opening and Anya’s playful voice. She barges past her and heads to take a seat on the couch with a loud sigh. 

 

“Yes. Suit. It’s a fucking restaurant.” Although Anya didn’t clarify what type of restaurant, she still used that term instead of ‘a place to eat’, so it must be formal. Not too formal. It’s just a suit she wears a suit all the time, she wears one at work. 

 

“Woah. Did someone shove a stick up your ass today?” She throws the closest thing to her at Anya which happens to be a pillow which is caught and thrown back easily. 

 

“Is Clarke ready?” Lexa hates when Clarke pops into her mind like the girl is of any importance to her. In her defence, Clarke’s the reason Lexa is even here so having the blonde on her mind is a valid thing. Maybe not the thought of Clarke’s lips on hers, Lexa’s lips on Clarke’s lower ones, the sounds and moans and heat. There’s no valid reason for those thoughts to infiltrate Lexa’s mind. 

 

“Not yet. Raven’s finishing up too.” She glances down at her watch with a sigh as Anya sits down next to her scrolling through her phone, likely on instagram. Lexa’s not the best with technology, she’s rather disconnected with the world of social media. But it’s definately a choice thing; she understands the concepts and mechanisms. Technology isn’t difficult to understand she’s not an old woman. 

 

“We’re going to be late.” Anya sighs this time allowing Lexa to turn her head and look at her with unamused eyes. 

 

“Our badges will get us in even if we are late.” She tries not to laugh at Anya’s comment because of course Lexa has to keep this facade of seriousness, because who will? Someone has to be the serious person in the group, the one making the right choices and making sure everyone else does the right things too. 

 

“That’s just us exploiting our powers.” 

 

“That’s why power exists; for exploitation. Keep up with destructive society, Lexa.” 

 

“Destructive? Subjective term.” 

 

“Maybe is use to be. But, looking at the facts, destructive is the best term to use.” Lexa rolls her eyes and sighs for the hundredth time this night so far. She hates political talk, hates that Anya has to continuously ask questions over and over again no matter what answers Lexa gives her. Sometimes Anya’s curious and skeptical mind is a good thing, but those sometimes are usually at work when they’re working on a case. Most times Anya just needs to stop talking and accept that facts are facts, that power is power, sometimes it’s not as deep as it needs to be. 

 

“Okay. Stop talking now.” She can almost feel Anya’s smirk burning into the side of her head. She closes her eyes and takes a breath to collect herself. She’s easily angered today and she still has no fucking clue why or how to shift her mood. Maybe she’s hungry, the food might help. That is if they make it to the restaurant on time. 

 

“Don’t like political small talk?” 

 

“You know I hate any forms of small talk. Or talk in general.” 

 

“Silence it is.” Anya finally obeys as the two sit in silence for the next five minutes, both almost falling asleep with their heads resting on the back of the couch. Until someone clears their throat and Lexa is forced to open her eyes and sit up with a stretch. Things are a little blurry until she sees Clarke in front of her, blue dress, tight around her figure, cutting off just inches below her ass. Her hair is in curls casually bouncing off her shoulders, makeup light just a little blue eye shadow, mascara and liner to draw attention to those gorgeous deep blue eyes. Lexa gulps lightly and stands up greeting Clarke with a smile and a gentle kiss on the cheek. 

 

“We’ve been waiting for quite some time.” Clarke looks slightly insulted at those being the first words out of Lexa’s mouth, but the look on Lexa’s face is enough to bring the smile back. 

 

“Beauty is time.” Her voice, husky, raspy, oozing seduction and playfulness. How is it possible that Lexa actually missed the blonde’s voice? The weight shifted just slightly away from her shoulders at hearing Clarke’s tone. 

 

“I thought the phrase goes beauty is pain?” She casually buries her hands in her pockets not knowing what to do with them that won’t look awkward. Clarke seems to know everything to do with social interaction, with her fingers twirling at her curls, other hand gripping the purse clutch. It’s the first time Lexa has seen Clarke in a dress. In all honesty, the brunette silently wishes she’d wear them more often. 

 

“They go hand in hand. It’s painful to wait.”

 

“It was, especially with Anya discussing power concepts and criticising my attire.” She glances at Anya who’s already kissing at Raven’s neck, pecking her lips, grinning at the beauty of her girlfriend. 

 

“I happen to like what you’re wearing. A lot.” Lexa clears her throat, a little uncomfortable under Clarke’s gaze as the blonde looks her up and down with a subtle bite of her bottom lip. 

 

“Good to know.” 

 

“I exist too.” Lexa steps back from Clarke to face Raven who has Anya pressed up against her back, hands around her waist. She’s wearing a deep shade of red, the dress, heels. Although her dress is a little longer than Clarke’s, no doubt Anya’s orders considering she hates people gazing at her girlfriend. 

 

“Hello Raven. You look lovely. To this day I have no clue how Anya managed to make you fall for her. Can we go now?” She manages to dodge a slap from Anya as she walks towards the door, Clarke’s hand in hers, tingling at the feeling. 

 

“You’re an asshole.”

 

“You’re a pain in my ass. Let’s go.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


Clarke’s finding it difficult to keep her hands to herself. Lexa always looks great, literally all the time, but especially in a suit. And this suit? Doing her loads of favours, hugging her in all the right places, navy blue complimenting the white shirt so perfectly and God does Clarke love a well-dressed woman. She can’t keep her hands to herself and she’s almost 100% certain she’s going to get laid tonight. 

 

Hands drifting from her own lap to Lexa’s, fingers tracing up and down the brunette’s thighs, seductive winks and lip bites. She knows she’s driving Lexa crazy, if not by the tight grip on her hand then by the heat she’s feeling radiating off the brunette. And what she finds exceptionally sexy is the brunette having to shift in her seat, rubbing her thighs together, probably aching for a sort of release or sitting in uncomfortable wetness. 

 

“I don’t agree with that at all. Riverdale is fucking terrible and you will not change my mind.” She tries to pay attention and engage in the conversation - or more like the argument - going on between Raven and Anya. She can’t help zoning out every few minutes, but can anyone really blame her? Having that hot piece of ass next to her is enough distraction. 

 

“Anya, it’s a masterpiece. So many twists and turns, constant new characters, it’s very consistent in the entertainment factor.” Lexa shifts next to her again, this time glancing at Clarke with a slight glare as the blonde’s fingers stretch far to her inner thighs. 

 

The last time they slept together must have been at least a week or maybe even two weeks ago. Lexa’s been dry in texts, not answering any calls and when they bumped into each other at the park Lexa just smiles and changed her jog to a run. Clarke’s noticed a shift in her own mood, a little more anger to her actions, maybe a bit more aggression when she’s out under Niylah’s orders. Plus, she’s lashed out at Raven more often than not and she’s decided to simply put that down to sexual frustration. 

 

She just needs Lexa. Everywhere. And soon. 

 

“It’s fucking terrible. The acting is shit, everything is overly dramatic, and Archie is such an entitled dickhead.” The conversation’s getting louder, drawing unwanted attention from other tables that Clarke tries to give awkward apologetic smiles to. Some noticed her hand and she retreated it with a slight frown and sigh resorting to sitting back in chair looking at Lexa’s side profile. Her jawline is impeccable, especially when she’s angry and clenches just a little every few seconds. She wants that between her thighs again more than anything - this time Clarke’s the one uncomfortable in her seat. 

 

“Don’t you dare insult Archie and his fucking honour.” 

 

“I’ll insult his ugly ass all I want.” 

 

“I’m not putting out tonight.” Everyone knows that’s not true. 

 

Clarke laughs for the sake of laughing, letting the couple know that she’s still somewhat engaged. But her attention is still on Lexa and that clenched jaw, the subtle lip biting which she’s picked up is a nervous habit of hers, and the breathing. Every single time Clarke’s fingers get to her inner thighs, Lexa’s breath hitches - Clarke can tell by the slight jump, the stiffness of her back and shoulders.

 

“I gotta go wash my hands. I’ll be right back.” Lexa blurts out, startling Clarke as she stands up and rushes, almost marches to the bathroom in the back of the restaurant. She contemplates whether or not she should follow her.

 

Lexa could have gone as a hint for Clarke to come too, maybe a quick makeout session? Maybe to tell her off? The brunette also could have left because of genuine anger or annoyance at Clarke’s behaviour. Maybe she’s uncomfortable with public displays of affection? Only one way to find out. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Oh fuck. They’ll come looking for us.” Clarke moans and Lexa’s ears hear nothing else but those sounds, God, the raspy sounds that come out of Clarke’s mouth are addictive. She wants to draw out more and more, hear any possible tone, pitch, anything and everything. She wants to make Clarke forget how to speak, she wants desire and pleasure to take over Clarke until all she knows is Lexa’s fingers, tongue, mouth, and no longer has control over the music of her pleasure. 

 

“I don’t care.” Lexa pulls back from Clarke’s throat, grinning at the marks she has left there, like a path down to her cleavage. She knows a good earful and beating is coming her way but now she only cares about pleasing Clarke, tasting her, feeling her. The brunette leans up and kisses Clarke soundly on the lips, pulling her bottom lip deliciously into her mouth, exploring the blonde with her tongue. 

 

“But, ugh shit, but,” Clarke tries to push out between rushed kisses, legs wrapped around Lexa’s waist as best as they can be, hands in brunette locks, twisting and pulling. 

 

“Clarke. Just stop talking for five fucking minutes.” Lexa helps Clarke down from the sink ledge and pushes her into an empty stall - safer in case someone happens to walk in. She’s pretty sure they’d be horrified to see the brunette with her fingers deep in Clarke, moaning frantically. Unless that person is Raven or Anya. They’d probably enjoy that and try join in. 

 

“That’s not the way you talk to someone you’re trying to fuck.” Clarke breathes out, panting, and allows Lexa to lift Clarke up and hold her against the door, legs comfortably around her waist again. It’s slowly becoming Lexa’s favourite position with the blonde flush against her, all the control in Lexa’s hands. Lexa slides her hands up Clarke’s thighs, scratching and kneading the skin, her inner thighs, higher and higher until her fingers catch the wetness between her legs. 

 

“Well you’re fucking soaked so I guess it works.” Lexa soaks in Clarke’s moans with her mouth, swiping her tongue across Clarke’s bottom lip. She pushes Clarke’s panties to the side, sighing heavily into Clarke’s mouth at the feeling of her juices, the warmth, how ready Clarke is for her. Lexa did this. This is all for Lexa. 

 

“Fuck, please, just fuck me already.” Clarke pants out, pulling away from Lexa’s lips to throw her head back. The brunette takes the opportunity to leave wet kisses along her neck, one hand gripping Clarke’s full ass and the other pushing a digit into to blonde’s heat. They both moan at the feeling but instantly freeze up at the sound of the door opening. 

 

“Shh.” Lexa shushes Clarke as they both wait in anticipation and hear the stall next to their open and close. Lexa decides to test Clarke’s self control, see if she can keep herself quiet. She curls her finger just slightly and immediately kisses Clarke when she hears her gasp. The hand gripping her ass squeezes tightly as the blonde bites Lexa’s lip and soothes it with her tongue. Lexa pushes her finger in deeper and tries not to groan at how tight the blonde is, clenching, pulsing and throbbing around her finger. She dares to flick her thumb up at Clarke’s clit and the blonde lets out a moan between Lexa’s lips. 

 

“Stop.” Clarke manages to breathe out as she breaks from the kiss. Lexa simply smirks at her and thrusts back in with two fingers this time, watching the blonde’s mouth hang open as she bites her lip to prevent those sounds that Lexa’s loves. Lexa begins to move her fingers, curling them with each thrust, going slow but hard, pushing Clarke back against the door. Surprisingly the door didn’t rattle at the force, but what does create a bang is Clarke’s head against it. They both pause again as they hear the stall door open, hurried feet, then the bathroom door opening and closing. “Fuck.” Clarke moans out as Lexa begins thrusting fast, nails digging into Clarke’s ass cheek.

 

The sounds are intoxicating; the impossible between, Lexa’s fingers thrusting through, collecting it all with her fingers, wet skin slapping together, Clarke’s heavenly moans, groans, squeals, sighs. Lexa feels her eyes roll to the back of her head, feeling a dampness between her own legs at the sounds, feeling her own clit throb and pulse as Clarke gets tighter and tighter, wetter and wetter, louder and louder. 

 

“Are you close?” Lexa pants out, feeling her arm cramping at lifting Clarke with just that one arm, but she pushes through and lays kisses, licks, marks along Clarke’s neck. The blonde breathes in Lexa’s scent. 

 

“So fucking close.” She pants out, moving her hips frantically with Lexa’s movement, seeking friction on her clit. This time the door rattles. Lexa groans and moves her thumb up to rub hard circles at Clarke’s sensitive clit. “Oh God, shit, I’m cum-” Clarke’s cut off with her own gasp, her breath caught in her throat as she reaches climax, throbbing insanely hard around Lexa’s fingers, who can’t help but groan at the feeling. The brunette can barely move her hand but she tries gentle strokes and soft thrusts to let Clarke ride out her orgasm. 

 

“That’s it. Cum for me. All for me.” Lexa pants out looking into Clarke’s eyes, those blue eyes that have taken a darker shade tainted with lust. Those eyes that twitch, trying not to close, trying to maintain that connection with Lexa’s forest greens. 

 

“That was...fuck.” Clarke breathes out. Lexa takes a few more seconds, staring deep into Clarke’s eyes, realising their depth for the first time, before abruptly pulling away, dropping Clarke onto her feet. 

 

“We should head back.” The brunette opens the door, pushing Clarke back and heads to the sink to wash her hands. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Where did this come from? Lexa isn’t like this. She’s never like this, she’s not an impulsive person, she’s not even a very sexual person she can control herself. Even with Costia, it was easy to tell her that there was a time and a place for everything and sex is for private chambers, it’s for the bedroom when no one was awake and no one could hear their sinful sounds. 

 

But with Clarke. It’s different. She has no clue why but everything feels different. Lexa looks up and sees Clarke’s reflection in the mirror, just coming out of the stall with a smile on her face. Yet the brunette somehow knows that Clarke’s going to try touch her, tap her on the back, wrap her arms around her. And the thought makes her flinch, makes her storm out of the bathroom leaving a confused Clarke behind her. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Anya had decided to spend the night at Lexa’s, working on their current Trikru case - she couldn’t really say no when the brunette was practically begging her. Raven seemed pretty upset about it but Anya will make it up to her easily with a few orgasms and cuddles. Lexa’s situation seems more important. 

 

Anya’s not an idiot; she noticed that both Lexa and Clarke went missing during their dinner. But when Lexa came back first she looked angrier than before if that was even possible. And Clarke came back a few minutes later with a confused and sad look on her face. The blonde also had a load of badly covered up hickeys scattered along her neck. The two barely talked to each other after that and Anya knows that she can get Lexa to talk to her tonight. 

 

“I want to tell you something.” Lexa finally opens her mouth after nearly 30 minutes of silence. They’re sat in the kitchen, Anya with a beer bottle in her hand and Lexa with a cup of water. It’s a miracle that Lexa’s able to sit there without a sip of alcohol. Anya knows she for a fact could not function without her weekly night at the bar with her colleagues.

 

Anya still remembers how Lexa was after Costia’s death; she went weeks, months, refusing to be sober, refusing to just face her emotions and the situation. She knows that her best friend is never going to be able to forget Costia. She might move on, she may even find love again, but forgetting? She’ll never forget her first love that was taken from her, the first person she’s ever let in, the first person she thought she’ll live with till the day they die together. That kind of love being taken from you, nothing being in your control, that’s something no one can ever forget. 

 

She tried being there for Lexa, even gave up drinking for a while and spent more time with her best friend. She put her through therapy, she stayed at Lexa’s place all the time to make sure she would stop harming herself. She had to make sure Lexa ate enough, took enough showers, even the simplest things Anya had to do for her. It was her duty as the best friend, as her family She had to prove that not everyone Lexa loves will be taken away. 

 

“Is it about Clarke? We saw you two sneak off today.” Those two can’t keep their hands to themselves. That’s actually something Anya didn’t expect to come from this. But nevertheless she’s glad to see Lexa opening up to someone new a little. Lexa deserves love just as much if not more than everyone else. 

 

“Yes we did. We had a talk.” Anya smirks and sips on her beer, laying back deeper into the couch. She remembers when her and Raven use to have ‘talks’ in bathrooms. It was always their excuse to why they locked the door. They even faked an argument with screaming once on a plane ride to Mykonos for a couples getaway. They faked the argument, excused themselves to those tiny bathrooms and continued screaming holding back moans. 

 

“You  _ so _ did not have a talk.” 

 

“We did.” Lexa, being the stubborn bitch Anya’s always known her to be, shook her head and stood up pacing around a little. She’s nervous. Anxious even. Is she going to tell Anya that she’s in love with Clarke? That she wants to ask her to be in a relationship? She’s finally read to talk about her feelings and address her problems of the past that have been buried so deep she needs to dive in to get them out. 

 

“Damn. Couldn’t keep your hands off her? I know that feeling. I wanted to take Raven but you two already claimed the bathroom.” Lexa rolls her eyes and nervously chews on her bottom lip. Anya’s getting a little more curious to what her friend wants to talk to her about. 

 

“She’s not, I’m, listen it’s not like that. And that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” Lexa stuttered, finding it difficult to compose a sentence properly. She really is nervous. Anya sighs and downs the rest of her beer before placing the empty bottle on the island next to the other two. Lexa, standing next to the sink, spills the rest of her water away and begins cleaning the cup with way too much soap and aggression. 

 

“Then what?” Anya watches her friend carefully, looking for any signs of what she’s feeling other than anxiety and nerves. 

 

“It’s about Clarke.” Anya figured it was about Clarke already. 

 

“Okay?” Lexa pauses before turning off the tap and grabbing a towel to dry the cup - again, aggressively. 

 

“I found out that night at the club when we met for the first time.” She takes a longer pause this time and Anya sighs, impatiently tapping her foot on the ground. She plays with the empty bottle, sliding it on the island from one hand to the other. Lexa finally turns round to face Anya after drying the cup off. 

 

“Go on.” 

 

“Clarke works for Trikru. For Niylah.” What? Now this must be some big joke. Anya’s initial reaction is a loud chuckle that turns into full blown snorting and laughter after seeing Lexa’s serious face. 

 

“That’s a joke right?” Lexa doesn’t break the seriousness on her expression, refusing to laugh or smile. Anya frowns slightly as her laughing comes to a stop. “Right?” Lexa sighs and Anya’s forced to take what she’s saying seriously. There’s no way in hell Clarke is working for Niylah. Raven would not associate herself with people like that. 

 

“I saw her texts. I’ve been sleeping with her to get closer access. To her phone, her computer, her home.” Anya lets out a choked laugh of disbelief. 

 

“So she’s, what, a fucking gang member?” Raven is best friends with Clarke. Clarke Griffin who is also a member of the largest and more brutal gang, that’s even fucking going worldwide. Raven wouldn’t set Anya’s best friend up with someone like that. She wouldn’t. Not the Raven Anya knows. And she’s pretty sure she knows Raven well enough. Her girlfriend is not a fucking gang member and would not associate with someone who is. She begins to wonder if the love of her life has ever been put in danger by Clarke, because of Clarke. 

 

“Yes. Pretty high up too from what I gather. I think she may have been involved romantically or at least sexually with Niylah.” Now that’s a shocker. So is Clarke playing Lexa too? What does she want from her? Does she know of her profession? Does the blonde want to infiltrate the force? Maybe she just wants Lexa to fall for her just for Clarke to reveal this, just to hurt Lexa and break her heart again. Maybe Niylah put her up to it? There are so many questions Anya wants to ask, so many things she wants to know. 

 

“This is a lot to take in.” She pauses and takes a deep breath, standing up and walked to lean against the fridge next to Lexa. “Was she involved…with what happened?” Lexa visibly twitches and stiffens at that question.

 

“I can’t know for sure just yet. But I slipped up her name once and Clarke didn’t show any signs of recognition. So I don’t think she was involved.” Anya pulls another beer bottle out of the fridge knowing it’s going to be a long night. She’ll have to go through the material she’s gathered from Clarke, they’ll have to discuss what the next move is going to be, and also whether or not telling their Chief is the best thing to do right now. 

 

“Even then. Has she killed anyone? Do you know her role? What type of jobs Niylah gives her?” Lexa clenches her jaw and crosses her arms over her chest - a defence mechanism that Anya hates more than anything. 

 

“I don’t know, Anya. I just. I just needed to tell you. The guilt is killing me.” Guilt? What does Lexa have to feel guilty for? She knows for a fact that Clarke is the one involved with the wrong people, is a ‘wrong’ person herself, and Lexa is simply doing her job. 

 

“Guilt? Fucking guilt? For what?” 

 

“Faking this with her.” Anya’s brows relax, soften a little at the words and the look of vulnerability on Lexa’s face. 

 

“If there’s guilt, you’re not faking it Lexa.” 

 

“I-” Lexa cuts herself off to sigh heavily and run her hand through her locks then quickly turn the tap on and wash her face. She turns back to Anya. “We’re going to take her and Niylah down. Their whole fucking gang, and we’ll pull Azgeda to the fucking ground too if we can. We’ll end it all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	7. Humanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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_ Her eyes flicker open, attempting to protect themselves from the bright light from above. The fan’s moving at a rapid pace, so fast in fact that she has to get up and blindly make her way out of the room before she freezes to death.  _

 

_ Vision still blurry, she uses her hands to feel out her atmosphere. Walls, walls, more walls, maybe a picture frame, walls, staircase. It’s a familiar feeling. The atmosphere. The air she’s breathing, the feel under her fingertips, the smell of lavender. She opens her eyes wide, deciding that the pain is worth it for her to be able to see where she is.  _

 

_ Everything’s foggy, even with her eyes open. She sees the picture frame she just touched, pulling it off the wall. It’s her. It’s her, and dad, and mother. All smiling, all happy to be holding her on her first day of high school. Even her mother’s smiling.  _

 

_ She shivers and drops the picture frame with a gasp at the sudden cold that started attacking her from behind. She feels exposed, vulnerable, and steps down the staircase, but pauses at the sound of a familiar voice.  _

 

_ “Clarke? Honey, we’re going out! I don’t know what time we’ll be back, but make sure you lock all the windows and the doors!” Clarke rushed down the stairs almost slipped at the last one - she couldn’t be blamed for her fluffy socks because it would be a crime not to wear them in this cold.  _

 

_ “Where are you going?” She asked her parents with her signature pout, looking up at them. Her dad was in a light grey suit, a blue tie and a white shirt. He looked handsome as he always does, very welcoming with his toothy and dopey smile. Her mother, a warm but apologetic smile, black dress hugging her figure.  _

 

_ “Date night. Why don’t you call Raven over to spend the night?” Raven went home that morning since she stayed over last night. She usually wasn’t allowed to stay for two nights in a row; their parents saw no point in that since the girls went to the same school, shared the same classes, shared the same social circle, literally lived next to each other. Clarke can just open her bedroom window and see Raven in her own room usually dancing wildly to a rock song of some sort.  _

 

_ “Don’t you always go on date night with Raven’s mum and dad?” They did that often. When the girls were a little younger they’d be dropped off at Clarke’s granny’s place, but at the age of 16 they could clearly take care of themselves and didn’t need a babysitter.  _

 

_ “Only Fridays. Today it’s just us.” Her dad kisses the top of her head and headed out the door. Clarke watches him and tries to reach out for him but looks down when she realises she can’t move her arms. She can’t move anything. She sees ice around her feet on the floor, mounting up her legs, freezing her spine.  _

 

_ “Dad wait!” She calls out but he doesn’t acknowledge her, he doesn’t turn, doesn’t stop in his place. He walks further and further away ignoring Clarke’s screams.  _

 

_ “I have to go, Clarke. We have to go.” Her mother’s standing next to him now, but facing Clarke with a scowl on her face, that scowl that’s always been on her mother’s face when she addressed Clarke.  _ __   
  


_ “Daddy, no!” The ice creeps higher, at her neck now. She can barely breathe, barely see anything through the fog. The only thing she can do is scream.  _

 

“ _ Clarke? Clarke? _ Wake up, Clarke!” The blonde sits up with a throaty gasp breathing in so much air that she begins to choke, coughing and closing her eyes in pain. She feels a pounding in her head, like there’s an invisible, very tiny but somehow extremely strong man in the inside of her skull. He’s holding a hammer, one of those big ones used to smash a big drum, but instead of a drum he’s smashing her head over and over. 

 

Clarke lets out a groan and finally acknowledges the warm hand on her back, the gentle movement of fingers running up and down her previously frozen spine. A cool object touches her lips and she’s forced to open her eyes to see what’s invading her privacy but she calms down and grabs the glass with her shaking hand and gulps down the water. 

 

“Are you okay?” The blonde grunts, not really hearing the voice properly. She finishes the water and it’s out of her hands quickly so she deems it safe to fall back on the bed. She stares up at the ceiling and watches the fan spin slowly, almost lazily, as if it’s not fazed at all by Clarke’s screaming. As if it’s tired of her shit. She can practically hear the ‘this bitch’ as the fan barely fulfils its function - she can hardly feel the air, she can barely breathe, she’s over heated as opposed to being frozen a couple of minutes ago. And everything is still blurry and the voice is still talking but Clarke can’t seem to hear a thing. 

 

The only thing she can hear is her screams and her father ignoring them, her father telling her he’s leaving her, saying that he had no other choice. That he  _ had _ to go. 

 

“I can sleep on the couch if you’d be more comfortable.” Still not recognising the voice, Clarke’s a little hesitant to speak. But she protests nevertheless. 

 

“No.” Her voice comes out rougher than she imagined it to be, like she’s been crying for hours. No, for days. Like she hasn’t had a sip of water in weeks. Like she’s never been able to utter a single word for over 20 years and this is the first thing that came out of her mouth. 

 

“No?” 

  
“Stay.” She reaches out trying to feel for anything soft, for that warm hand that she felt on her back. Finally, she feels fingers gripping her own, intertwining. Then a dip in the bed and a light arm draped over her stomach. She breathes in, feeling a warmth all over her. Feeling that ice disappear. She breathes in until she recognises the scent and is finally able to fall asleep safely in Lexa’s arms. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


The office is uncharacteristically quiet today and Anya is close to losing her mind. She’s grown so used to constant chaos and the exhilaration of human and social contact that she can’t have time to herself. Sometimes it annoys the fuck out of Raven when her girlfriend just wants to sit and read to herself. Anya poking her cheek every few minutes effectively distracting her was the last thing she wanted in those moments alone in bed. Lexa was another person she loves to annoy. She’s known her for quite some time so knowing what buttons to push and holes to poke, well, Anya likes to think she’s an expert in that area.

 

“I’ve been reading this new book. It’s called ‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck’.” She watches Lexa’s reaction to her words carefully, planning what to say next. The brunette visibly rolls her eyes and tenses at the interruption. 

 

“I can’t believe I’m friends with you.” Anya knew an insult was the next step, anything to get a reaction out of Lexa. Sometimes she feels like a bad friend; craving the entertainment provided through the misery of Lexa doesn’t sound like something a best friend would do.

 

“I couldn’t put it down all night. It really got me thinking that maybe it’s your Bible?” Anya frowns at the lack of a reaction from Lexa. Maybe she’s grown immune to it; that must be the only explanation. There’s no way Anya’s off her insult game. No way. 

 

“Sure thing.” She groans and throws her face into her palms.

 

“See? Just like Mark says! I insulted you and you have given zero shits. Zero!” Her hands are flying out of her control at this point. Anya’s really bored. Like the extent of bored that can drive people to punch themselves in the face just to feel something or to have something else to think about. It’s a story she can tell her children and grandchildren - well she’ll likely be referred to as crazy gran, the one that listens to the voices in her head that tell her to give herself a black eye because why the fuck not. 

 

“Because your insults are not worth me giving one of my fucks.” 

 

“Literally the words of Mark.” Lexa simply grunts in response. 

 

Anya’s mind drifts to thoughts of Raven as she blows air through her lips and smacks her hands on her thighs. Raven. Now, thinking about Raven can only result in thinking about naked Raven, which can only result in an eagerness to get home which Anya knows will not be happening anytime soon. But now she’s thinking about naked Raven. ABORT. 

 

“Hey, listen. I did a search of that Bellamy guy.” That isn’t a total lie; she did search Bellamy. But the reason she brought it up was because she also did a search on Octavia, Raven’s new friend. She’s wary of her. Well, not wary; she trusts that her girlfriend can take care of herself. But the one thing she doesn’t trust is hot girls. And Raven and hot girls. And hot girls around Raven. With hot girls, there have an aura, a natural seduction to them. Just a smile, a laugh, a touch on the shoulder that looks completely innocent can be made incredibly alluring and sexy, all because of a hot girl. Not even ‘hot’, just girl. Girls are hot. 

 

“Not here. Only at my place.” She notices how tense Lexa got at the mention of Bellamy, at the thought of Niylah and the gang. Maybe even the thought of Clarke? 

 

“Don’t you think it’s a good idea to tell Chief?” It would be the smartest thing to do, at least to avoid any sort of punishment legally for their actions. Their Chief should be informed of what they’re doing, where they’re going, who they’re looking into. What Lexa could possibly do if she gets close enough to Niylah. 

 

“Not yet. He’ll start giving out demands and instructions and I just need to do this. I need to do it, okay?” Anya’s not an idiot, she knows that look in Lexa’s eyes. She knows Lexa enough; there’s no way she can mess with her or change her mind somehow. She’s had this revenge plan in her head for years. Even before Costa was taken away from her Lexa wanted nothing more than putting Niylah down. 

 

“Okay. I understand that.” Lexa continues typing and Anya rolls her chair over to her. “If we do this - long-game I mean - and we get to them. Get to her. Are you gonna…?” She gets close to her and knows that Lexa is playing dumb, especially when Anya raises her brows suggestively and Lexa doesn’t react. 

 

“Going to what?” The cold look on her face is enough of an answer, but Anya wants to hear it. Lexa’s never killed a person before. Never. She’s done a lot of things, she’s hurt a lot of people - criminals only of course - as it obviously comes with the job of chasing people down and being shot at. She always aims for the legs though, never above, not even shoulder because it’s too risky. Lexa would never take away life from someone, because in her eyes every single person can redeem themselves. 

 

“Do the right thing or the impulsive thing?” Lexa silently types before sighing and turning to look at Anya, knowing there’s no avoidance of the question. 

 

“I dream of doing the impulsive thing every time I close my eyes.” Anya sometimes dreams of killing people too, but those usually end up being nightmares when she wakes up trying to wash blood off her hands. It hurts that she can’t say her number is the same as Lexa’s big zero. Even though they were bad people, even though she thought that the world would be better off without them, having that on your hands is another level of suffering and guilt. But having someone like Niylah there, someone like that haunting your dreams? She wants nothing of the sort for Lexa. No one deserves that. 

 

“You know I can’t let you do that.” Lexa turns to face her again with a colder look on her face, brows and lips tight, eyes dark and challenging. 

 

“Can’t?” 

 

“Can’t.” Anya’s stern in her tone but Lexa doesn’t falter. They’re whispering at this point.

 

“Don’t fight me on this, Anya. You will lose.” 

 

“At least I’ll lose knowing I tried to stop you from turning into someone just as bad as her.” Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.  

  
  
  


\----------

  
  


Going on drives with Bellamy is on Clarke’s list of favourite things to do. He’s always a source of entertainment for her; he’s cracking jokes, stupid puns, sings along embarrassingly off-key in the loudest voice possible. And most importantly, Bellamy cares enough to ask Clarke how she’s feeling. He’s a voice of reason, someone she can always come to and trust, somebody who will never lie to her, never sugarcoat shit news, give it to her hard and true. 

 

Sometimes she needs a wake-up call and Bellamy is there for her. He was there for her when she first joined Trikru, when she was scared and alone with no guiding hand. But sometimes, on the rare occasion, Bellamy makes judgements that Clarke in no way, shape or form can agree with. 

 

“You’re going to have to do it at some point, Clarke. We all had to. It’s the only way to prove your loyalty.” 

 

“I’ve proved it enough. There’s no reason for me to have to go to those lengths for it.” It’s difficult to ignore Bellamy most of the time; he’s loud and very persistent. When he knows something but would rather have Clarke admit it, Bellamy tends to say the wrong thing to try and frustrate Clarke into telling him the truth, into correcting him. But this time, he’s wrong. 

 

“Everyone has to. It’s like, ugh, I don’t know how to put it in simple terms. Like, if you’re not able to do it now, then you won’t be able to do it ever. It’s like in the field you’ll be a liability.” Now that’s something Clarke does not agree with. A liability? What’s required of her is ridiculous and too much as it is. She rolls her eyes and turns in her seat to face away from him. He glances at her with a smirk as his curls jump with a shake of his head. He makes sure to keep his eyes on the road; the last time they had a car crash he broke his arm and Clarke had shards stuck all across her collarbone and chest. They simple laughed it off, both of them high on their way back from one of their first missions together. 

 

“Then I can stay here. I was trained for medical, not for this shit.” Clarke recalls her first year or two of training; it was mainly medical procedures. Other members would often come back from missions injured, scratches, stabbings, gun shot wounds, anything imaginable. Clarke would watch Niylah patch them up, watch her work and move around the room with elegance, with such speed but gentleness. She made it look effortless like she didn’t care, like she wasn’t bothered, like there was no burden of having this person’s life in her hands. 

 

Clarke, at one point in her life, wanted to be able to say that she worked effortlessly like that. But she can’t say that without lying. Niylah would call it weakness every time Clarke flinched along with the screams of someone in pain, when Clarke spent her time running off to the nearest bin with her hands covering her mouth the first few times she had to watch Niylah working. But she’s reached a point of numbness to it all. Whether or not that can be classified as effortless is another discussion. 

 

“We all started somewhere small. No one’s asked to murder someone on their first day.” She hates that word. ‘Small’. It’s not small, because it’s the start of a journey, because the power it holds is incredible. Nothing in this world is small; everything means something to someone. 

 

“No one should be asked to murder anyone at all. Listen, I know there’s good guys and bad guys. But nobody is entirely bad, nor entirely good.” 

 

The infamous Yin and Yang. The good inside the bad and the bad inside the good. That was Clarke’s first tattoo. It’s not extremely visible considering she’s almost always wearing socks that cover her ankles. She got the tattoo with Raven by her side, smiling and laughing, mocking her for the few groans and tears of pain. But it ended up being the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen; two dolphins circling around each other, one black and one white, eyes the opposite colours. 

 

“I get that. But that’s not the point of doing this.” Clarke points to indicate for Bellamy to turn right  getting closer to where Niylah said their mission was to be carried out. All she told them to do was spy, count, pry out some information on Azgeda recruitment numbers. Clarke hasn’t been told what Niylah’s plans are, her end goal at least. Niylah was always planning something. 

 

“No. I understand the point. I just don’t agree to it. So I’m not loyal because I don’t think I should have the power to take someone’s life away? It’s ridiculous, Bell, and you know it.” She presses the button on the small finger counter for each Azgeda youngster she sees hanging about.  Bellamy drives slowly, pressing his own button for the members he sees on his side. If the windows weren’t tinted Clarke is sure they’d have Azgeda members chasing them down, throwing rocks and slashing tires by now. 

 

“I don’t why you’re making a big deal out of it. You’ve hurt people before.” Clarke has definitely done that. She’s not going to deny her crimes. She knows she’s not a good person, or at least right now she isn’t. But she always tries to justify her actions with what she had to go through, with the loss of her parents, the loss of a home and family. Niylah became her family. And family does everything and anything for family. 

 

Plus, Malcolm X was a radical and aggressive man, but he reformed. She trusts the universe to change her as time goes by, as she experiences more things - possibly life-changing things. Nobody stays the same, right? 

 

“Yes. I have. But that’s because they deserved to be punishment. But punishment allows people to learn and change. You can’t learn when you’re dead. Death isn’t a punishment.” Clarke squints when she spots a few guns badly hidden behind a few dumpsters. Guns that were not painted white at the stock, or handle. They must be stolen. She pulls out her phone and takes a quick picture allowing her phone to save the exact location of the picture taken too. 

 

“It’s a punishment for Azgeda. They lose men and learn not to fuck with Trikru.” Bellamy comes to a stop, looking right then left and deciding to go left away from what looks like further danger. Suspicion is their enemy at this point. 

 

“I just don’t think it’s necessary.” 

 

“Death isn’t necessary, Clarke. It’s just a fact of life.” Clarke turns to glare at him, unmoving in her expression. 

 

“I’m not taking a life, Bell.” He sighs and turns to face the road, speeding away to make it back to Niylah. 

 

“Then let’s hope Boss doesn’t ask you to. I really don’t want you to die.” Clarke almost wants to laugh at this. Niylah would never be able to kill Clarke. Not because of her feelings but rather because of the information that Clarke holds. She’s more important than Niylah is willing to admit, but either way, she’s important. 

 

“She won’t kill me. She needs me.” 

 

“How?” 

 

“Trust me. She needs me.” 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Humans have no humanity. In this day and age, humans - or at least a good majority of them - have no shred of humanity left. Murder, rape, more murder, child rape, knife crime, robberies, family murders, mass killings, bombings, suicide bombings. People would rather have their phones out recording what is happening rather than actually giving a helping hand. She really doesn’t understand how anyone can have the heart to just watch, to do absolutely nothing while other people, other human beings with feelings, are in pain.

 

Every person suffers in this world. There was a point in this world where there was no suffering, or at least very little suffering. People were happy, people were social - actually social rather than creating a false life on social media. Social media, social expectations, all this bullshit does nothing but fuel depression and sadness. Suicide is the leading cause of death for people ages 15-29, millenials in their prime. Around 300 million people in the world have depression, or have at least been diagnosed with depression. 300 fucking million people in the world who feel empty and are suffering and have probably thought about or attempted to take their life at least once. 

 

Sure, it’s a chemical imbalance. But if it’s just chemical, why is it classified as a mental disorder? Why is it classified as social and psychological? Why is it that the same medication doesn’t work with every single depressed person? 

 

Sometimes, antidepressants don’t take the form of a drug. Sometimes that doesn't work at all and only makes things work. 

 

Sometimes love can be an antidepressant. Love has the power to make you forget you were ever sad in the first place. 

 

“I missed you.” This isn’t love. 

 

“Stop it.” It’s not love, it never can be love, it can’t even be like. 

 

“Stop what?” She hates her. She hates everything about her. She hates her golden curls, her soft skin, her cloud-like lips, those fucking lips. She hates her lips. 

 

“I don’t do pillowtalk.” She hates her voice more than anything, the raspiness to it, how rough and husky yet gentle it is. She hates how she feels when she hears her voice. 

 

“Am I taking your pillowtalk virginity?” She hates the sounds she makes when Lexa is two fingers deep inside her, stroking and curling hitting all her sweet spots. She hates the harsh intake of air, the sound she makes when it gets caught in her throat, the sweet moans and groans of ecstacy. 

 

“No.” She hates her smile when she comes down from her high, when she looks into Lexa’s eyes and makes her way down Lexa’s body, kissing and biting, licking and sucking until Lexa has to be the one to pull her eyes away only to roll them back along with her hips. 

 

“Who was before me?” Costia. What? 

 

“Goodnight, Clarke.” For a brief second. For a minute or two. 

 

“Night, Lex.” She forget Costia. 

 

Fuck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	8. Desire

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Lexa has decided. She has finally decided what she’s going to do about this curren shitty situation that she’s in. It was a very difficult decision to make, one that lasted her the entire night lying awake next to very girl present at the middle of this problem. 

 

What is it that people desire more than anything? Is it love? Is it revenge? Is it attention? Social approval? It’s evidently changed overtime; people want different things depending on the type of things that other people have. Jealousy has always been interconnected with desire. 

 

Now Lexa is not a jealous person. She’s always known her limits, has always tried to be content with what she has and realise that happiness comes from within rather than materialistic bullshit. To be fair, Lexa has always had money. She was lucky enough to be raised by rich parents who were rich because of their parents and so on. So in honesty, she hasn’t suffered enough to become jealous of what other people have, because she’s had it all. 

 

The first time Lexa ever felt jealousy was when she lost Costia. The first time she saw a couple kissing, cuddling, laughing together in a bar is when she lost it and started a fight. Luckily Anya was there and able to stop her before it got too far - unnecessarily far. Lexa saw something that somebody had that she didn’t. She no longer had the person that she loved and cared for and could sit and laugh with, sit and cuddle with, make out with. Someone that always gave her nothing but happiness. 

 

But now, turning and looking at Clarke, she’s jealous. She’s jealous of how unaware Clarke is to their situation. Lexa knows there is no way the two of them can ever be together, really together. But Clarke doesn’t know that yet. Clarke doesn’t know how their worlds can never mix. And because of that, Clarke doesn’t know the disappointment.

 

So. Lexa has decided. She has finally decided what she’s going to do. She’s going to pretend that her feelings don’t exist. 

 

“Mmm, good morning. How’d you sleep?” She quickly turns her head towards Clarke’s raspy morning voice, watching her stretch and a dopey smile was automatically planted on her face. 

 

“You’re so beautiful.” Well. Her plan of pretending is clearly going exactly how she hoped. 

 

“Stop. I look like a potato right now.” The giggle is somehow even better than Clarke’s smile, spreading goosebumps up and down Lexa’s entire body. She watches the blonde sit up, wanting nothing but to stroll her hands up and down her naked back. 

 

“A cute one.” A hot one. A hot potato that Lexa will definitely let burn her hands off. She’d be more than happy with that as long as she can look into Clarke’s eyes as she does it. 

 

“Potatoes are not cute.” The blonde looks at Lexa over her shoulder with a pout that the brunette can’t help but sit up and kiss right off her lips. They both sigh into the kiss, noses rubbing together softly. Lexa pulls back slightly, brushing their lips together softly. 

 

“Then I guess you’re not a potato then.” Clarke smiles widely and giggles but this time Lexa can’t help herself. She chuckles along with Clarke and pulls her back onto the bed, spinning so that she’s on top of the blonde, between her legs, gazing into her eyes. 

 

“You’re in an awfully good mood today.” Clarke hums, fingers carelessly brushing up and down Lexa’s spine as the brunette lays soft kisses along her neck. 

 

“I didn’t get any sleep.” She mumbles and begins her mission of marking Clarke as much as she can. The blonde moans softly, nails digging instead of brushing. 

 

“And that’s a good thing...how?” She notices Clarke’s change in tone, a more breathy one. She smirks against her skin, glad that she knows how to affect the blonde, how to turn her on, leave her flustered with no trail of thought. She bites down and smirks even harder as Clarke inches her hips up just slightly. 

 

“Had time to think.” She did think. But now, her self control is practically non-existent. The second she laid her eyes on Clarke in the morning sunlight, glowing and bare and beautiful, Lexa was a goner. She’s fucked and she knows it. 

 

“You’re always thinking. Sleep is meant to give you a break from thinking.” Lexa lets her hand drop down to Clarke’s stomach, kneading her skin and rubbing soft circles with her thumb gently. She leans up to brush her lips against Clarke’s again, sighing with content. She can’t get enough of her.  

 

“No need for a break when all I think about is you. I need the opposite of a break.” The blonde giggles against her lips, biting Lexa’s lip gently, seductively. The look on Lexa’s face of pure submission must be hilarious to Clarke at this point. 

 

“And what’s that?” Clarke deliberately pulls back, placing a hand on Lexa’s chest. The brunette groans in frustration and digs her nails softly into Clarke’s stomach. She trails her fingers up and up until she reaches the curve of Clarke’s soft breast. 

 

“More hours in a day to think about you.” The blonde’s breath hitches as Lexa begins to knead her breast, making sure she feels everything, making sure her hand never forgets how it feels. 

 

“I didn’t realise you felt this way.” There’s a genuine sense of surprise in Clarke’s voice, but it’s laced with happiness. A lot of happiness that neither of them expected from this. 

 

“There are plenty things you didn’t realise about me.” 

 

“An example?” Clarke gasps and rolls her hips against Lexa, seeking some sort of friction after the brunette just tweaked her nipple. 

 

“I’m always very horny in the mornings.” The blonde lets out a breathy laugh followed by moans and groans, squeals and any sounds that decided to escape her throat. She had no self control with Lexa’s face between her legs. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Anya is definitely a jealous person. She cannot stand Raven giving any sort of attention to anyone but her. It has nothing to do with trust; she trusts Raven with her whole life and more. Btu what she doesn’t trust is other people with Raven. What she doesn’t trust is other people and their intentions, other people misreading certain things. A hug isn’t something a normal person misreads. But when a person is interested in someone, anything they do that gives them any sort of attention is interpreted as ‘maybe they like me too’. 

 

That is what is making this meeting worse than anything Anya has ever fucking experienced. She would rather be shooting herself in the leg, pull out the bullet herself and repeat over and over again. She would rather be smashing her head against a wall right now. She’d rather be on a 10 hour flight with a crying baby next to her and an annoying kid kicking the back of her chair. But Raven insisted. And Anya would do anything for Raven. Even sit through an entire lunch with her girlfriend and Octavia fucking Blake flirting right in front of her. 

 

Maybe calling it flirting is a little harsh, but it does look like they’re flirting. Or at least Octavia is. The fucking arm touching, the obnoxious laughter, the subtle but not-so-subtle lip bites. She’s blatantly flirting with her girlfriend right in front of her. It’s disrespectful. It’s disrespectful and that’s why Anya is fucking angry. 

 

“So, Anya. Where do you work?” She glares at Octavia, continues glaring and refusing to answer her until Raven nudges her side with a glare of her own. 

 

“Detective.” Octavia visibly tenses at that and Anya leans forward wondering whether she’s involved in her brother’s business. “So. You got any siblings?” If she lies, she either knows her brother is in Trikru or they’re both in the gang and she’s trying to cover her ass. 

 

“Just my older brother, Bellamy. Love him more than anything, even though he knows how to get on my nerves.” Raven nudges her again, this time with a warning to behave. Anya pays no attention to it and turns back to look at Octavia while sipping her coffee. 

 

“Any other family?” Octavia turns cold again. But Anya refuses to read the signs for what they are and she continues to push. 

 

“No.” 

 

“No? No parents?” 

 

“They died. Mum had cancer, Dad killed himself after she died. Are we done with this interrogation?” So. Anya did not read that in the files. She’s a little mad at herself but that’s nothing compared to the earful she knows she’s going to get from Raven. She can practically feel her girlfriend’s anger radiating off of her and she’s not even looking at her. 

 

“I-I’m sorry.” It is a genuine apology in her defence. Also in her defence, she still doesn’t know whether Octavia is a danger or not so it’s only fair for her to be cautious. 

 

“I have to excuse myself to the bathroom.” The second Octavia leaves, Raven smacks the back of Anya’s head angrily. Anya avoids the next hit by moving her chair further away and sighing. 

 

“You’re a fucking asshole. You know that, right?” Anya crosses her arms and looks at her angered girlfriend with a raised brow. She doesn’t really have much to say, but she knows Raven won’t be able to understand since she doesn’t know about Octavia’s brother. 

 

“Yes. I know.” Anya’s looked through the files and all of Lexa’s notes - there was a very fucking huge load to read through. She sure can trust Lexa to be thorough with her notes. The detective wrote every single thing she got her hands on, all of her theories and any person on Clarke’s phone. Anya also had to read through thousands of text messages since Lexa uploaded Clarke’s entire phone onto her laptop. 

 

She doesn’t trust Bellamy; from the texts and what she’s read on him, it’s obvious he’s a violent and pushy person, a little egocentric and has this hero-complex when in reality everything he does includes murder and theft. 

 

“I know you get a little jealous sometimes and just want to guard your ‘territory’ as you like to fucking put it, but this was too much, Anya. This was way too much.” She almost smirks at the mention of her ‘territory’ since Raven gets turned on by Anya’s possessiveness. But Anya seems to be getting the impression that Raven is not very happy with her right now. 

 

“Oh relax. That was nothing. Be honest, the only reason it’s ‘too much’ is because her parents are dead. If they were alive and well and she went to the bathroom then you wouldn't’ have fucking hit me. I said sorry.” That was probably the wrong thing to say. Raven almost breaks the glass in her hand by how tightly she’s gripping it. But she does lean forward, lowering her voice a little since she notices the unwanted attention the pair are getting. 

 

“How fucking inconsiderate can you get?” She said sorry. That was being considerate. Shit happens. It’s life and she’s sure Octavia has spent her fair share of time trying to forget and move on from what happened in her life. And to be fair she is right in this situation; Raven tends to have too much sympathy for people. Sometimes Anya wonders if that’s why Raven has stuck with her all this time. She’s a fucked up person, she’s destroyed and used goods. She’s a mystery to others but once Raven cracked open her walls everything came rushing out. 

 

So Raven should know how angry Anya can get when she’s continuously shouted at. 

 

“Don’t make me fucking walk out of here right now.” Her tone is empty. No emotion whatsoever and it may have worked on Raven a while back but it doesn’t anymore. Her girlfriend simply rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair with a laugh. 

 

“Oh so now you’re threatening me with bullshit like that? I just wanted you to meet my fucking friend.” Her friend who was flirting with her right in front of Anya. And oh wait, also could be a fucking gang member? Yes, Anya has no reasoning to be cautious then? Wrong. 

 

Anya drinks the little drops left of coffee in her cup and slams it down. Her leg is shaking at this point hinting at her anxiety levels getting higher. Raven doesn’t seem to be calming down either and the two can’t stop glaring at each other. 

 

“I have valid fucking reasons for pushing, Raven. Don’t fucking test me right now.” Anya glares at anyone who’s looking at the couple nosily. It’s disrespectful. Are they not embarrassed with themselves for not minding their own fucking business? She brings her glare back to Raven at hearing the girl laugh condescendingly again.

 

“What reasons could you possibly fucking have?” She doesn’t want to answer that question. Mostly because she can’t tell her any of the reasons, or at least the real reasons. Now she can understand how Raven can misinterpret everything that Anya has been doing. She calms down a little as her legs slows down, but Raven seems to only be getting angrier while waiting for a valid response from Anya. 

 

“She’s, well, she’s prone to violence. And an alcoholic.” Now Anya’s beyond nervous because she knows her girlfriend enough; she’s either going to burst and jump on her, or run off and ignore her for as long as she can. The last time that happened it lasted three days and it was absolute torture. She can hardly last a day without talking to Raven. 

 

“And how would you know that?” She tenses under Raven’s glare, her eyes forcing a response, forcing the truth out. 

 

“I just do!” There’s a few seconds of silence before Raven gasps and Anya sighs in response while closing her eyes. 

 

“You-you fucking asshole! You fucking searched her up in your stupid system didn’t you?” She stands up pointing an accusatory finger at Anya and if it was any other situation, any other person, Anya would have cut that fucking finger off. 

 

“Raven--” There’s no point attempting to reason with her now. Raven starts to put her phone and anything else on the table into her purse, hurriedly putting her coat on. Anya stands up in an attempt to stop her or hold her but she only gets shoved back into her seat.  

 

“I can’t even look at you right now. Tell Octavia I had to go.” 

 

“Raven! For fuck sake.” She calls after Raven who’s practically running at this point but there’s no use. She’s now left alone, waiting for Octavia to come back so she can just apologise and go find Raven. 

 

If she can’t trust Bellamy how can she trust Octavia? How can she possibly know her intentions, whether or not she’s plotting something to hurt Raven? To steal her from Anya? Sometimes Anya wonders whether her work gets into her mind too much. She’s grown a natural caution or warning radar for anyone that comes into their lives. She can’t help it; she needs to look into things a little too much for her job. And to be honest, her job is practically a 24-hour one. 

 

“Where’s Raven?” She looks up at the sound of Octavia’s voice and sighs as the girl sits down. 

 

“She left.” There’s a little disappointment on her face. Or a lot. She looks more uncomfortable, hands clasped together on her lap. After practically being interrogated it would make sense for her to be uncomfortable being left alone with Anya. She tries to ease her with a smile but she’s pretty sure the poor girl is even more scared now. 

 

“Oh.” 

 

“She’s angry with me. And she has every right to be.” Anya hates apologising. And she really wishes Octavia won’t make it even more difficult by being oblivious. 

 

“Okay?” Shouldn’t that be enough of a fucking apology? She’s stating that she’s the one in the wrong. 

 

“Listen, she’ll be even angrier if I don’t apologise properly. I was acting like a dick. I could have taken a different approach but this is just the way I am. I’m sorry.” She leans forward and explains, watching Octavia’s face very clearly for her ‘real’ reaction under all the formalities. 

 

“Can I ask why you acted that way?” So now Anya’s the one being interrogated? She leans back in her chair, a little bit surprised but simply crosses her arms cautiously. 

 

“I’m just protective.” 

 

“In what sense? I’m not harmful.” 

 

“You were flirting with her right in front of me.” She says as bluntly as she can and watches in confusion as Octavia laughs rather loudly and dramatically. So this bitch wants a fucking fight? Because she’s about to get one. 

 

“Flirting? I have a fiance, Anya. We’ve been together since I was 16.” Well. 

 

“Oh.” Eight years is a long time. Which implies a lot of loyalty. So Anya has misjudged the situation entirely and she knows that once she gets home Raven will be waiting for a massive apology. 

 

“Raven’s a good friend. I don’t have many and I was just happy to make a new one.” Now that would make sense with the whole need for isolation after losing both your parents, especially to such a disease like cancer and suicide is never a ‘good’ death as some people like to say. Anya knows that in that situation she would have isolated herself from the world and everyone close to her. 

 

“Now I’m an even bigger dick.” Just a good old massive 10 inch cock. That’s exactly what Anya feels like. After that misunderstanding, Anya can tell that Octavia actually is a good person, or at least trying to be. Maybe she really is oblivious to what her brother is doing, or maybe it just doesn’t matter to her. 

 

Either way, knowing that information about their parents would explain some of Bellamy’s behaviour. Losing family? Finding a new one with Trikru? It’s why a lot of youngsters join, usually orphans. Around 78% of the youngsters that they manage to pick up from the streets say they joined because they had nowhere else to turn to. No parents or any other family. And Niylah provided them with that: a family. 

 

“It’s okay. I understand the confusion with that. Did she tell you I’m bisexual?” 

 

“Yes. She did.” Octavia laughs, throwing her head back, and sighs. 

 

“Makes even more sense now. I’m sorry, I’m just very touchy with my friends. It can be a little much but if it makes you uncomfortable I can hold back a little with Raven.” Now Anya feels even worse. This girl seems really innocent and genuine. There’s clearly something wrong with Anya and this whole thing of being overly suspicious. She really needs to make it up to Raven. 

 

“No, no. It’s fine. You’re fine. I’m an asshole. Listen why don’t we go out for dinner? Double date, bring your fiance and I’ll bring my angry girlfriend.” It wouldn’t hurt to have a couple they can hang around with. For unknown - or rather unspeakable - reasons, Anya thinks Clarke and Lexa are not going to last. 

 

“That sounds lovely.” Anya sends a quick text asking Raven where she is before shoving her phone into her jacket pocket. 

 

“I’ll get Raven to send you the details later. But for now, I need to go find her before I get home and see she’s dramatically packed her bags.” True story. Raven tends to be very dramatic in these situations. She used to watch bollywood movies and shoes when she was younger - still does sometimes when she thinks Anya isn’t paying attention to her - and clearly Raven has been influenced by that. 

 

“Oh my god, does she actually do that?” They laugh together and it feels better than Anya thought it would be. She understands Raven a little better now; Octavia’s a great conversationalist. 

 

“Only twice. She likes the attention I give to her.” 

 

“You guys are very cute together.” Anya chuckles and stands up this time glancing at her watch. 

 

“Thank you. I really have to go, and again, I’m very sorry.” 

 

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later?”    
  


“Yeah, soon.” She speeds out and makes her way home. She’s more than ready for a long conversation and hopefully some angry make-up sex. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Clarke has some explaining to do. Niylah is beyond angry at her, but the type of anger where she has to stare Clarke directly in the eyes for as long as possible. The type of anger where she does everything in her power to make herself more powerful than Clarke, to make Clarke feel inferior. And it usually works. But not today. And she can feel Niylah’s anger through her glaring.

 

“You’re directly choosing to disobey me.” Her voice oozes power. Niylah, sitting at her desk, isn’t even glaring anymore. She just looks disappointed. She has a lot of expectations on Clarke. She’s not stupid. She knows what’s expected of her, she’s known for a very long time. But she’s been avoiding it and finding reasons, anything that can get her out of it. And now she finally has one. 

 

“I will not kill a human being.” She’s deliberated over her ‘reason’ for this for quite some time and Clarke is still confused and feeling nothing but regret and guilt for what she’s about to do. Death is death, whether it’s direct or indirect. But at least this way she can keep some of her humanity. At least this way, she won’t turn into a cold-blooded killer. 

 

“You will do whatever I fucking ask of you.” Niylah pulls open her drawer and places her gun on the table. Clarke stares at it before smirking at Niylah. She won’t kill her. 

 

“Not this.” Niylah leans forward in her chair. 

 

“You know the consequences of refusing ascension.” Clarke knows she won’t kill her. 

 

“You won’t kill me.” Niylah laughs in disbelief and stands up while grabbing her gun. The two stare at each other challengingly for a few seconds.  

 

“How many years with me and you still have no idea what I’m capable of.” She knows exactly what Niylah is capable of. She’s seen Niylah shoot people right between the eyes just for arriving late to meetings. She knows that if it wasn’t for the her very valid reason Niylah would shoot her right now. She could torture her for months before killing her if she really wanted to. That’s the lack of humanity. That is something Clarke will never be. 

 

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable of it. I just said that you won’t.” Niylah walks around her table, dragging the tip of the gun on the desk. 

 

“And how exactly are you going to stop me?” She knows Niylah is stronger, more experienced, more skilled. 

 

“I can’t do that.” Maybe she should be scared, especially with Niylah’s gun pressed between her eyes right now. But Clarke stands strong, one brow raised and smirk firmly in place. 

 

“Exactly. So why do you think I won’t kill you right here and now?” 

 

“Because I can get you to Lexa Woods.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	9. Caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

Lexa Woods is known for her intelligence. Not a single person can outthink her, deceive her, manipulate her. That is mainly due to her lack of emotions, the selective amount of fucks given to certain people or things. 

 

Lexa’s outlook on life is a unique one; she sees herself as only having ten fucks to give in her life. Of course, one of these fucks is reserved for her father, always, no matter what happens or what he does. She has immense of respect for him, not just because he’s her father, but because of the things he has been through and what he has taught her. Another fuck is given to Anya. She’s a supportive best friend, somebody Lexa can always trust and somebody that has been there long enough to understand Lexa. One for her job, one for her Chief - who she also holds great respect for - and another for her health, both physical and mental. That’s five gone for what she views to be the essentials in her life, the most important things and people. The other five used to belong to Costia. Well, they still do, otherwise why else would she be seeking vengeance? She still cares, she still attempts to keep in contact with Costia’s parents because she knows that is what Costia would have wanted. 

 

According to her calculations, there should be no more fucks left for her to give. She has nothing else she should be caring about or else things could get dangerous. She could be too vulnerable, too open, too predictable. However, the way she’s feeling now while glaring at her phone suggests she cares about where Clarke is, who she is with, what she is doing, why she’s not with Lexa right now, and when she can be with her. That’s another extra unwanted five things to care about. And another five if she counts the anger that follows each other those things, the anger being directed at herself for feeling this way. Therefore, she gives a fuck about Clarke and she also invests her thoughts into pinning down the reasons for her caring about Clarke. 

 

That is ten. Ten more fucks just given to Clarke. Clarke is not, should not, be an essential in her life. But for some reason that Lexa cannot understand, the blonde beauty is refusing to leave her mind, rather choosing to move in with all of her fucking stuff too. 

 

Lexa is an intelligent person. She knows the answer to all her own questions: Clarke is probably with Niylah since she knows Raven is out with Anya right now. Or perhaps she has other friends like normal people do, or maybe someone else, but Lexa would rather not have more things to be thinking about so she locks those thoughts away in a box and swallows the key. If Clarke is with Niylah, she’s either carrying out a mission that Lexa is refusing to think about, or she’s  _ with _ Niylah, which Lexa is also refusing to think about. But she already swallowed the key so there’s no other place to store her thoughts. Now, this is why Lexa is no longer intelligent, but rather really fucking stupid for choosing to be ignorant. She let herself be vulnerable, let herself listen to her heart instead of her head. Every decision with her heart is bound to break her, one way or another, now or later, it will happen and Lexa is fucking stupid because she knows this subconsciously but she’s refusing to know it consciously. 

 

She’s pulled out of her thoughts when she feels the bed vibrating followed by her phone’s piercing ringtone. It’s Clarke. 

 

“Hello, Clarke.” She tries to force a cold tone but it came out a little croaky instead and she curses herself for the lack of self control. Clarke sounds a little out of breath, making Lexa wonder what she was doing, whether or not she’s just gotten out of bed with Niylah, or if she’s been running from someone.

 

“Hey! Listen I’m so sorry I had to cancel dinner.” The apology sounds sincere enough, but Lexa refuses to accept it. 

 

“It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” Or maybe hearing Clarke’s voice automatically means she’s forgiven. 

 

“I’m free now, since you’re awake?” It is a little ridiculous that Lexa stayed up till midnight for Clarke to call or text her, even though she cancelled dinner hours ago. 

 

“I’m not sure. I have to be up early tomorrow.” That’s a lie. But she knows that seeing Clarke tonight will only make her more attached. But, she also knows that without seeing Clarke she will likely be up all night. 

 

“Please? I wanna make it up to you.” She tells herself not to get tempted by Clarke’s words and the thoughts of her lips, her soft lips. Her hands, fingers, both inside her and scratching her back. 

 

“I don’t know, Clarke. How long will it take for you to get here?” She would wait hours if she has to. 

 

She’s thinking about Clarke. She’s thinking about the sounds. 

 

“Like 10 minutes. Come on, babe. I can just stay over and cuddle if you don’t wanna do anything.” She can wait 10 minutes. 

 

“Fine.”

 

“Yay! I’ll see you soon!”

 

“See you.” Lexa sighs as soon as she hangs up and throws herself back to fall on her bed. She’s an idiot. This is her fucking mission for crying out loud. She’s not meant to fall for the criminal, for the subject that she is meant to be exploiting for information. There was always a hint of guilt when she intruded on Clarke’s privacy, but now? Now that hint is punching her in the face screaming ‘PAY ATTENTION TO ME’. 

 

Clarke is not a bad person. Yes, she has done bad things. Everything depends on individual outlooks on life. What is a bad thing? Bad has different actions attached to it in different societies, like the capital punishment, like misogyny, like eating frozen pizzas (Italians don’t particularly like that one). How many bad things make a bad person? Can a person be completely bad or is it possible for redemption? 

 

Even if she has the answers to these questions, Lexa doesn’t know exactly what Clarke has done. From the texts and other information she’s gotten, there isn’t much on Clarke herself, rather a lot on Bellamy’s actions and a few other gang members. Niylah is near-to clean from what she can gather, apart from when she tells her she has a new mission. But that’s not solid evidence to use against her, because that could mean anything. The other messages were not Lexa’s favourite to read through, especially the amount of sexts between Niylah and Clarke, Clarke and other girls that she used to sleep with. 

 

From what Lexa can gather, Clarke hasn’t been sleeping with anyone else. She’s still hacked into her phone and she is no longer texting other girls. Only Niylah, but they don’t sext anymore either. The pair haven’t discussed whether they’re exclusive or not. Then again, does it even matter? Once Lexa can take down Niylah, Clarke will likely be taken down with her. Or if not, she already knows Clarke’s reaction to Lexa playing her wouldn’t be the best. 

 

Clarke has not murdered anyone, at least to the best of Lexa’s knowledge. Lexa doesn’t believe Clarke can be capable of doing something like that. She’s looked into her eyes. She is not a murderer. She can’t be.

 

And from what she can pry out of Clarke, the blonde knows nothing of Costia. So maybe she wasn’t involved. Maybe she’s just as innocent as the youngsters that join searching for a family. Clarke doesn’t open up. But Lexa can get her to. She tells herself it’s just to get a wider picture of the whole system of the gang and the type of people involved, but deep down she just needs justification for falling for a criminal. 

 

The ringing makes her jump out of bed this time, rushing to the door to press the button that unlocks the building door. She sees that there are a few plastic bags in Clarke’s hands through the screen, probably take-out to make up for missing dinner. It is a little late for Lexa to be eating - physical health is in her top ten fucks - but she’s been making a lot of exceptions for Clarke recently. The blonde can smile her way into anything. 

 

“Hey.” Lexa opens the door and smiles instantly at the blonde, grinning beauty. “Let me take these.” She grabs the bags and returns Clarke’s grateful smile before making her way to the kitchen. 

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it earlier, baby. I got mexican to make up for it since you eat spicy food like it’s water.” Lexa chuckles as she grabs some plates, glasses, and cutlery. For a brief second her mind flashes to Costia. Every single time they ate out, it was somewhere with spicy food. And once they moved in together, all of Costia’s cooking was bursting with Persian spices and flavours, despite Lexa originally disliking spicy food. 

 

“I’ve had a lot of spicy food in my life, darling. I’ve grown immune.” Lexa puts down bottle of wine she pulled out of the cupboard once she feels Clarke’s arms wrapping around her waist. She leans back against the blonde with a grin. 

 

“Hmm. And if you have a lot of me in your life will I no longer have an affect on you?” Clarke’s husky voice whispering in her ear gives her goosebumps, sparks up and down her spine so intensely that she almost shivers. She turns and leans in close, breath lingering against Clarke’s parted lips.  

 

“Stick around and maybe you’ll find out one day.” She feels the blonde smiling against her lips as they embrace each other, pressing their lips together in a slow and sensual kiss. Clarke breaks off and Lexa sighs, attempted to pull her back in. 

 

“Okay I’m starving. I’m just gonna clean up. Do you mind setting up?” She wouldn’t have let Clarke set up anyway since her version of that is eating from the wrappers. Lexa prefers a neater way of eating, which is what she says to Clarke whenever she positions herself between the blonde’s legs and tells her not to move. 

 

“Was planning on it anyway.” 

 

“You’re amazing.” 

 

“I know.” Clarke disappears behind Lexa into the bathroom and she brunette sighs while emptying the contents of the bags onto plates. Tacos in one, nachos in another, burritos and so on. Clarke really did go all out. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her health, Niylah. Only pills I can see are typical pain killers. They’re marked obviously so I can’t switch them out or she’ll notice.” Clarke whispers with her phone against her ear carefully looking through the cabinet in the bathroom. 

 

“Are you sure? Not a single thing out of the ordinary?” She takes out the front containers, dropping them into the sink to get to the back and frowns once she reads the labels. “Clarke?”

 

“Prozac. And Paroxetine.” She pops the containers open seeing only a few pills left. 

 

“What are those used for?” 

 

“Prozac’s for depression and the Paxil could be for anxiety, OCD, or PTSD.” Lexa? Depressed? She’s never really seen any signs of it, or perhaps it’s one of those cliches where you don’t see what you’re not looking for. Now that she thinks of it, sometimes Lexa can distance herself. Okay, maybe more than sometimes. She rarely smiles, or smiled - she’s changed a little in the past few weeks of getting to know her more. She likes her routine, likes to keep to herself, doesn’t like her things being touched, doesn’t like being touched, has control issues. Clarke really didn’t see any of these traits before. 

 

“It’s PTSD.” 

 

“How’d you know that?”

 

“Costia.” Clarke vaguely recognises that name but can’t remember exactly where she heard it. She puts the pill bottles back in the cabinet, trying to line them up neatly like Lexa does. 

 

“Who?”

 

“Nothing, forget it. What else is there?” She sighs, skimming through the other shelves finding nothing more than some advil and floss. 

 

“Just that for meds.” 

 

“Alright, great work Clarke. See me in the morning after you’ve looked around the rest of the place.”

 

“Sure thing, boss.” She hangs up the phone and slides it back into her jeans pocket, closes the cabinet and catches sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair is a mess of curls and remains that way as she tries to pat it down and run her fingers to smooth the mane. Her eyes are bloodshot from the lack of sleep - she’s been spending day and night with Niylah plotting, planning, discussing what she already knows and what she needs to find out. 

 

Clarke isn’t entirely sure how to feel about the entire situation. She knows two things. The first thing is that her feelings for Lexa are real and still exist with the same intensity, even after finding out she works in law enforcement. She found out when she stumbled upon a picture frame in Lexa’s drawer, one of her with an older man - who Lexa resembles very much indicating it’s a relative, maybe her father - both grinning in uniform. The second thing is that she had no choice but to tell Niylah, not because she wants her boss to exploit Lexa but because Clarke was in a position that would have likely ended in her murder. Disobeying the command to kill somebody as a proof of loyalty was something every person eventually has to do for Trikru. Clarke knew her day would come and had thought of every possible way out. In her mind, there was no possibility of survival until Lexa. 

 

She’s a survivor. She always has been, even in moments when she thought life was not worth living. There was always someone to live for, something to work towards, to hope for. But she never thought she would be exploiting the someone she wants to live for in order to survive. And truthfully? Clarke is preparing herself for heartbreak and the look of betrayal on Lexa’s face if she ever finds out, once she finds out. 

 

“Clarke? You okay in there?” She turns her head at the knock and forces a smile. 

 

“Yeah, just gimme a minute.” 

 

“Food’s getting cold, hurry now baby.” Footsteps echoed further away and Clarke takes one last glance at herself before washing her face, her hands, and walking out the bathroom. This is going to be a long night. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Anya easily made up with Raven; they always make up fast. Usually she just apologises, all while leaving lingering kisses along her girlfriend’s neck, hands trailing down her surprisingly defined abs and under her pants. 

 

It took more work this time. Like, a few slaps to her hands, a couple of shoves and a night on the couch. It definitely wasn’t pleasing but Anya knows it’s a deeper issue than just being mean to her new friend. It’s about trust. It’s always been about trust when it comes to Raven, because the girl rarely trusted a soul after Finn. And when she did decide to take a chance, Wick broke her heart and took a piece of it with him too. Anya’s done all she can to fill that hole, only having that opportunity because Raven let her have her heart, trusts her with it. And in exchange, all her girlfriend ever asks is for honesty and trust. 

 

Wick accused Raven of cheating all the time, usually accompanied with yelling and bruises around her wrists. Those bruises gradually littered around the rest of her skin, increasing each time Raven accused Wick of cheating too. It only ended once she questioned what evidence he had against her and he admitted he knew the signs of cheating since he’s been doing it for eight months. That was all Anya knew, that and that Clarke was somehow involved in getting Wick away from her and Anya never questioned it until now. 

 

She never really questioned her girlfriend. But perhaps she should. Knowing Clarke is a criminal, knowing she’s capable of murder - may or may not have committed it already - allows Anya to really question what Clarke did to make Wick disappear and if Raven knows and accepts what Clarke had done. 

 

“You never really told me what happened to Wick.” Perhaps it’s not the best time to talk about this when Raven is on top of her, hot and braless, moaning and grinding. Honestly, Anya is never this distracted during sex, let alone sex with Raven. The girl is practically a supermodel, sweaty and make-up free, hair flowing, breasts bouncing with every movement. 

 

“Why would you ever think it’s okay for you to bring up an ex,  _ that _ ex in particular, during sex?” Raven pauses her movements to glare at Anya before gently letting her nails scratch against Anya’s abs. She hides her moan with a cough and tries to concentrate on her mission of getting the truth out of Raven. 

 

“I’m sorry. I just, I don’t know, I’m curious.” Raven can easily call bullshit, because Anya is not an ‘I don’t know’ type of person. Her actions and questions have motive. If Raven did notice the white lie, she doesn’t reaction, rather just leans down slightly, nails scratching the back of Anya’s neck this time, boobs literally an inch away from Anya’s mouth. 

 

“Maybe you can try be curious when I’m not horny?” Her girlfriend’s voice is dripping with sex and soon enough Anya’s lips grazed Raven’s hardened nipple. But she manages to pull herself back in determination. 

 

“That’s very rare. You’re always horny.”

 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Raven sighs and sits back up. Anya knows she disappointed, or at least irritated at the interruption. But Anya never interrupts sex so Raven must know it’s somewhat important. 

 

“No but really, baby, can we just pause for a minute?” Raven climbs off of her girlfriend and lays down next to her instead, crossing her arms across her chest drawing even more attention to them from Anya. 

 

“Ugh. Anya you know I don’t like talking about him.” She’s only ever spoken about Wick maybe four times? But Anya would rather try to get some sort of truth out before accusing her girlfriend of being an accomplice to murder and best friends with a criminal. 

 

“I’ll make it up to you.” Anya turns on her side to face Raven. 

 

“I’m sitting on your face.” Raven mirrors her actions with a smirk. 

 

“Deal. Tell me, how did you manage to break it off? I know it’s hard to get out of abusive relationships.” Anya reaches her hand down to comfortingly play with Raven’s fingers, stroking her skin, holding her hand. 

 

“It was hard. He was obsessive and controlling, always believed he was right, that he was entitled to do whatever he wanted and I had to be obedient.”

 

“How can someone think they’re entitled when they have a name so close to ‘dick’?” The two laugh together, scooting closer to each other, legs intertwining. 

 

“Anyways. When I told him I wanted to break up, well, let me just say he didn’t react very well.”

 

“What did he do?” She’s already feeling herself getting angrier by the second. The look of pain tangled with fear is something she never wants to see on her girlfriend’s face, ever. 

 

“Anya,” Her hand finds its way to Raven’s cheek, gently stroking with her thumb as her girl leans into the touch. 

 

“I’m not pushing you, baby. You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know there’s no judgements here. I love you. And I want you to feel safe with me.” The small smile on Raven’s face is enough to warm Anya’s heart a little more, tame her anger. 

 

“I know. I love you too.” Her girlfriend leans in kissing her softly, taking her time. They breathe each other in for the next minute or so - in honesty Anya loses track of time whenever Raven kisses her, hell, whenever the girl looks at her. She finally pulls away and sighs before speaking. “I ended up in the hospital. Fractured ribs, concussion, few broken fingers.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Anya doesn’t really know what else to say. The image of her girlfriend like that, bruised up, beaten down, it kills her. She wasn't there. And of course she doesn't blame herself; Anya knows that’s a toxic trait. But she can’t help the feeling of her chest tightening. She can’t help wishing she was there to protect her girlfriend. Her girlfriend. Raven Reyes, the most beautiful, intelligent, strongest woman Anya has ever had the pleasure of knowing. How someone can hurt her is something Anya will never understand. 

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong to be apologising.” Anya isn’t good with words, but she’ll try for Raven. She always tries for Raven. 

 

“I know. But when people say they’re sorry it’s a promise to not make that mistake again. I’m sorry that you had to go through those shitty things, that Wick was too much of a dick-face to see you for the queen, no, the goddess you are. And I promise, from the bottom of my heart, pinky swear and all that bullshit, that I will never mistreat you. Not in that way, not in any way.” She catches the tear that falls from Raven’s eye with her thumb, rubbing it away, rubbing her pain away. 

 

“You’re too good to me.” She leans their foreheads together. 

 

“I’m not even close to good enough for you. But I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to be.” Raven sighs and Anya pulls her close, letting the girl bury her face in Anya’s neck. Despite that, she still doesn’t know what happened to Wick or where he went. What Clarke did to him, if she even did anything. Maybe Raven doesn’t even know? But Anya feels like she’s drained too much out of her for the night. And just as she is about to change the topic, Raven speaks up again and Anya almost misses it from how fragile her tone is. 

 

“I never saw him after that. Clarke was sleeping in the hospital room with me on a chair that looked pretty uncomfortable. Every night. And then I asked her to get me clothes. She was gone the whole day and night, she came back the next morning and said Wick wasn’t going to bother me anymore.” It sounds like Clarke really does care for Raven. From what Anya has seen, it’s clear the blonde loves Raven and would do anything for her. Even criminals have hearts. 

 

“What did she do? Or say.” 

 

“She never told me.” 

 

“Never?” 

 

“Never. When I got home all his stuff was gone. Every single thing. It was like, like he disappeared. Like he was never there in the first place.” Anya doesn’t like jumping to conclusions. She likes getting facts and truth, motives and everything, until then she tries to remain neutral. But that sounds very much like someone trying to cover their tracks after making a person disappear. And by disappear she doesn’t mean fleeing the country, she means cold-blooded murder. But, after this story, Anya’s questioning everything yet again. Is it cold-blooded? Because Anya really wishes she knew whether or not Wick is alive so she can go kill him herself. “Then Clarke disappeared. For almost two months, I barely heard from her. And when she came back she changed. I don’t know what exactly happened, but she just, wasn’t as happy as she always had been.” Anya hums and pulls Raven on top of her, kissing her gently, fingers trailing up and down her spine. She decides that’s enough going down bad memory lane for the night. 

 

“Hey. Have you and Clarke ever...done the do?” Raven rolls her eyes and scoffs at Anya’s question. 

 

“Seriously?” 

 

“You know, fornicated?” Anya grins widely as her girlfriend chuckles. She sits up resting on her lifted arms. 

 

“Oh my god.” Raven tugs on Anya’s tank top, urging her to take it off. 

 

“Doinking?” She lets Raven take it off and throw it somewhere to the side. 

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Rubbing carpets?” 

 

“Why do I love you?” Raven slides her underwear off and begins crawling over Anya, up her body. 

 

“Making whoopee?”

 

“I’m not obliged to answer your question. ” She pauses at her chest and rolls her eyes again, this time biting her lip. Anya gasps at the realisation that Raven has began to blush. 

 

“Holy fuck! You so have tasted her taco!” 

 

“You’re about to taste mine. Stop talking and put that tongue of yours to better use.” 

 

“I’m the luckiest woman alive.” 

 

“Clarke had her lucky moment too.”

 

“Threesome?” 

 

“I’m breaking up with you.” She did break up with Anya (if breaking up means fuck her brains out). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave kudos and comments :)
> 
> let me know what you like, what you don't like, what you want, what you don't want
> 
>  
> 
> been a while, had uni keeping me busy :( BUT I AM BACK AND READY for some angst to soon come  
> honestly im addicted to getting my heart broken :) 
> 
> i know its only two scenes, but i really wanted to dig deeper and establish the real and intense connections and feelings these two couples have for each other. sets a better foundation in my opinions at least. and i love writing in lexa POV :)
> 
> FOR REAL TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO, IF YOURE NOT HAPPY WITH SOMETHING IM DOING i handle criticism well and only want to please you guys :))) this is your story as much as it is mine


	10. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAIN TUMBLR: 5-puthyyy  
> SECONDARY TUMBLR: graphic-creator  
> SC: noor-nhz  
> IG: n.m.xo  
> TWITTER: @DemiIsAGoddess5

It is the first time she has woken up with a smile on her face in months, with a beautiful girl wrapped in her arms, asleep and dreaming, no distractions but the light trying to stream through the closed curtains. She usually never closes her curtains; her body has a sleep cycle, a sort of clock, and she likes to be awake when the world is. The sun rising has always been the most beautiful thing to watch for her, and accompanied with the soft breeze, the sounds of birds chirping, a soft sort of buzzing as people began to wake and go about their mornings. Something about that was hypnotising to her. 

 

Lexa manages to pry herself away from the sleeping beauty, not without giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead first. She stops herself from opening her curtains knowing it will wake Clarke up, so she goes about her morning routine in the bathroom, washing her face, brushing her teeth. She opens her cupboard and shoves her way to the back to retrieve her prozac pills. 

 

She’s been taking them for a while, almost a month after Costia’s death. Lexa knows depression isn’t always a chemical problem, and she also knows it doesn’t always have a cause. Sometimes it’s a deep-rooted problem, self-hatred created by a toxic environment, degrading parents, a string of terrible ex-lovers. Lexa’s depression has a cause though. Lexa’s depression came when she lost the love of her life. No, not lost. When Costia was taken from her. 

 

Self-hatred derived from that. Knowing Niylah was trying to get back at Lexa for capturing her sister Ontari, knowing that Costia was killed simply because Lexa loved her, that is what pushed her to hating herself. She lost her hope, lost her will to survive. Living a life without Costia was not a life at all. 

 

But today? She shoves the container back in its place, closes the cabinet and thinks that maybe she has found a reason to stay. Maybe she can love again, maybe it isn’t the worst thing in the world to be vulnerable to let people in. Maybe it wasn’t her fault - how can something natural and beautiful and the purest emotion be wrong? 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Clarke sits up the second she hears the front door close indicating Lexa has finally left to go on her morning run. Clarke hasn’t slept at all. It’s hard to sleep peacefully when you’re betraying the person you’re sleeping next to. And sleeping with. 

 

It was impossible for the blonde to look around last night since she knows Lexa sleeps with one eye open; any movement and that girl is up like a hawk. So, she’ll have to sneak around now and rush back to Niylah like the good messenger she is, always obedient to her boss, the woman who consisently reminds Clarke of the place she was before she saved her. As if Clarke owes her anything. 

 

Do this or you die. That is all Clarke can keep whispering to herself as she sits down at the desk she always sees Lexa working at in her bedroom. She opens the laptop and of course it has a password because it’s Lexa and it’s 2019. Everyone is paranoid and trusts not a single soul. Clarke doesn't feel she knows Lexa enough to guess a password and hesitates to call Niylah. She could just lie to her. It’s not like Niylah has set cameras up or is really watching her. She trusts Clarke. Lexa trusts Clarke too. 

 

Betraying Niylah is something out of the question. Niylah is her boss, with incredible power, the power to end her life, to make her disappear. Niylah is also in love with Clarke, that much is obvious to Clarke herself but to no one else since she’s one of the only people to know Niylah on an intimate level. Niylah just struggles with love, with emotions, the whole lot of it. It’s not something she knows how to deal with, and it’s also something she doesn’t feel intensely. 

 

Betraying Lexa? Well, in a way she already has by telling Niylah of their connection. Even if Lexa only knows Clarke is in Trikru, she’ll make assumptions off that, she’ll hate Clarke for working under Niylah. Every single person in the gang knows of their ongoing feud. Lexa, or Alexandra as Niylah has always referred to her as, has always been going after Niylah and the gang. And Niylah has always been trying to get to Lexa on some way, some personal type of way. And she did at some point, but she’s yet to tell Clarke or to tell anyone - there was some sort of conflict with the police that resulted in every member either dead at the scene or killed later on by Niylah out of frustration at their incompetence. 

 

Betraying Lexa, the girl she’s only known for a few months, has to be something easy. Clarke is a professional. Clarke can separate her emotions and work. She can do what is required of her and always has.  

 

**Raven-claw**

_ Brunch? _

 

She opens Raven’s text, completely ignored the unopened message Niylah had sent her a few hours ago demanding a check-in. Niylah seems too excited over this, refusing to give Clarke a minute to breathe and just do her job. Clarke needs a moment to breathe and Raven, being the best friend she always is, somehow reads her mind. 

 

**Griffin-dork**

_ Sure _

 

Clarke sighs and strolls around the room seeing almost nothing she can really use. Lexa likes keeping her room neat and organised, way too neat and organised to the point where nothing is on show. Some of her drawers are locked too, the keys nowhere to be found. She really is a detective, and definately security obsessed. Just as she opens the final drawer of Lexa’s desk, her phone rings and it’s Niylah, yet again. 

 

“Clarke.” 

 

“Yeah.” She sits on the floor, taking one of the notebooks out; it’s leather, a reddish-brown. She opens it, skimming through the pages. 

 

“What’d you find?” 

 

“Let me call you back in a minute, I think I found something.” 

 

“Hurry.” She hangs up and stops at one of the pages that caught her attention. Her heart clenches, a soft smile at the words. 

 

_ Dear diary,  _

_ I’ve made my decision. I have been contemplating it for a while because you just never know what reaction you’ll get in these type of situations. There’s never a perfect moment for it, but once you do it the moment because perfect. I don’t know if that makes sense but it does in my heart. Everything makes sense with her. That’s how I know she’s my One. I found her, I found her a long time ago. She’s taught me things. She’s taught me how to live, how to love, how to enjoy life. She has taught me that love is not weakness. And I cannot picture a second of my life without her in it. It’s not too early, and I know in heart that she’ll say yes. I’m going to propose to Costia tonight and hope I am lucky enough to call her my wife, my soulmate, my everything.  _

 

Costia. Lexa seems or seemed to be in love with this woman. How does Niylah know who she is? Why did Niylah suggest Lexa’s PTSD pills were because of this Costia woman? Either way, Clarke would have never pictured Lexa to write words like these, feel things like this. 

 

She picks up her phone and dials Niylah’s number. 

 

“Hey, Clarke. So, tell me what you found.” 

 

“Security is tight here. Locks on everything. Haven’t found anything.” She turns the page and sees nothing there. This seems to be the last entry, despite the date being months ago, almost a year ago. 

 

“God fucking dammit. Just keep looking. And take pictures of everything, and I mean everything. I want to know where she lives, how she decorates. Fuck it, even her fucking coffee brand. Everything and anything you can find.” 

 

“Okay. See you soon.” 

  
  


\----------

  
  


Raven can get a little confused when it comes to Anya. She knows her girlfriend loves her, she’s seen the sweetest sides of her. But she knows her girlfriend is also out-out-touch with her emotions. She struggles with coming to terms with how she feels, struggles with being vulnerable and trusting someone with her heart. Anya being interested in Raven’s past, caring for her, making deep promises, that is something she doesn’t expect from Anya unless Raven brings it up first. It was refreshing. 

 

But the topic of conversation that Anya resurrected? That’s something Raven has been unable to remove from her mind for the past few days. Why would she suddenly be interested in Wick That is in the past and Raven’s made clear that she’s over it. 

 

Wick was sweet before he turned sour. Or at least, that’s what Raven tells herself. He was hiding the fact that he’d been cheating for most of their relationship, but he was also hiding his temper, his overly-controlling and possessive traits. He used to tell her that he was so in love with her and that’s why he’s controlling. Besides, how can you be possessive if you don’t deeply want the person? He blamed her for it. Saying she’s forcing him to hurt her. Saying she just needs to listen to him, that he cheats because she doesn’t listen, because she’s not enough for him. 

 

Clarke was always sweet and caring, protective over her best friend. She had no one else, just Raven. She had been living with Raven and her parents for a while, choosing to save the money she inherited when her parents passed. After the two grew old enough to move out, they rented a place out together. And once Raven got together with Wick, well Clarke had no choice but to move out. She didn’t like him and was very vocal about it. Raven loved that about Clarke. She loves her brutal honesty because that’s what is needed sometimes in a world corrupted with lies and manipulation. 

 

Clarke had gotten rid of Wick. Raven had never seen that sort of look on Clarke’s face when she first saw Raven in that hospital bed. It was like her entire world had fallen apart, but she was helpless and couldn’t stop it. So there was nothing but anger and frustration left, both at Wick and at herself. Once she got rid of him, she fled too. Till now Raven has no idea what actually happened, what Clarke did for Wick to leave, and where Clarke disappeared to afterwards. And it’s something she hasn’t really thought about much until Anya brought it up.

 

Clarke finally arrives after Raven has been waiting for almost 20 minutes at their usual brunch spot. Luckily the place was practically empty, just an elderly couple drinking tea in the corner. She looks tired, Raven notices. More tired than usual, with a clearly distracted or troubled look - she can tell by her eyebrows refusing to relax or even raise a little with playfulness. Her smile is clearly forced too; it isn’t reaching her eyes. Raven decides on a guessing game to figure out what exactly is wrong. 

 

“How are you and Lexa going? You guys together yet?” She watches Clarke carefully, noting how she can’t stop tapping the side of her coffee cup. 

 

“I guess we’re just taking it slow? I don’t know how to feel to be honest. She’s good in bed.” Clarke brushes the comment with a chuckle, a nervous one, a forced one. It’s clear to Raven that Clarke has feelings for Lexa. But perhaps Clarke is scared of Lexa not returning them. 

 

“Is that it?” 

 

“No, of course not! She’s sweet. And selfless.” 

 

“Selfless?” Raven’s never known Lexa to be selfless. She’s not a bad person, obviously, she’s just very strict to her schedule. No one is worth interrupting that in her eyes, simply because she believes she’ll be the only one left to care for herself. Especially after Costia. Everyone either leaves or is taken from her. 

 

“Yeah, so selfless. I know she has a tight schedule but she’s relaxed that for me, stays up with me. She’s always there when I need her, she’ll run out if I forget something or need something from the store. I guess she kinda puts my needs before hers. It’s really sweet.” Raven tries not to chuckle because everything Clarke is describing is so uncharacteristic of Lexa. 

 

“Right. I mean, I’ve never known Lexa to break her schedule for anyone.” She takes a sip of her drink and crosses her arms over her chest. 

 

“Really?” Clarke’s tone is a little shocked but she tries to mask it with a cough. 

 

“Yes, really. She takes care of her body and mind. Always saying good sleep is the most important thing for that.” 

 

Raven recalls one of the first times she attempted to go out with Lexa. Being her girlfriend’s best friend, she of course had to spend some sort of time with her to get to know her. They lasted until 10pm before Lexa started going insane, saying she needs to get home to sleep, that she needs to be up early and won’t be able to function at her full capacity if she doesn’t get her sleep. But Raven decided to call Costia to get her to convince Lexa that breaking the schedule for a night isn’t going to kill her. And it worked. But just that once. And it really was a great night. 

 

“No one? Really?” Raven shakes her head and watches Clarke for a minute. The blonde seems conflicted, chewing on her bottom lip, tapping on the table. And she finally speaks. “What about Costia?” Raven almost spits out her coffee in surprise at Clarke saying that name. Her and Lexa are not even dating yet, but the blonde somehow knows about Costia? What happened with her was Lexa’s most vulnerable and darkest times. That last thing Raven expects is for her to speak with someone other than Anya about it. 

 

“Wait. She told you?” 

 

“Well. I mean, she’s dropped her name once or twice. But I’m guessing she is someone important to her?” That is more believable, but still a stretch - at least in Raven’s eyes. If she knows Lexa at all then she knows the brunette could possibly go an entire relationship with Clarke without telling her about Costia. It’s almost like Lexa simply erased the years of her life with Costia, refusing to talk about anything that had happened, any part of their relationship, even the good parts. 

 

“Was. She was someone important to her.” Lexa wasn’t the only person who lost someone. They were all close. Date nights, movie nights, they even all went on a holiday together. Raven and Costia became close, bonding over dating Lexa and Anya, the grumpiest people on the planet. It was hard losing someone you considered a best friend. 

 

“What do you mean?” Raven realises her mistake before spilling more information that she doesn't have the right to let out. It’s Lexa’s secret to tell - well it’s not really a secret, but it is to Clarke at least. Lexa is really sensitive with these type of things - emotions in general - and Raven would rather just let her tell Clarke on her own time. 

 

“Listen, I don’t really want to betray Lexa’s trust, you know? It’s her past, not mine, to tell. Maybe try bring it up with her.” 

 

Raven would love to see how that conversation would go. Clarke and Lexa are both very stubborn; any argument between the two is bound to last weeks since neither would bother apologising. 

 

“Come on, Reyes! Best friend duty. You gotta tell me.” She ignores Clarke’s demanding tone and sees this opportunity to ask Clarke about what Anya brought back to life. 

 

“Just like you told me what you did to Wick and where you disappeared to?” Clarke’s demeanour changes. Raven has known Clarke long enough to know her defense mechanisms. She sits back in an attempt to get further away from Raven, folds her arms across her chest closing herself up and keeps her expression cold. 

 

“That’s not fair.” Her tone is matching her expression. So Raven gives her the exact same coldness - she knows it’s the only way to fight Clarke, almost like the blonde hates confronting herself, and it’s pretty difficult to avoid that when it’s staring her right in the face. 

 

“It’s very fair.” 

 

“Why are you bringing this up now?” 

 

“I don’t know. Curious.” Honestly Raven really doesn’t know why she hasn’t brought this up earlier. Maybe she was too distracted by her feelings of relief at finally seeing Clarke after she disappeared. Maybe Clarke has just been a master at avoiding this conversation. Either way, she’s asking now, and she deserves nothing less than the truth. 

 

“Right. I took care of it. Him, I mean. I took care of him and that’s all that should matter.” She’s right. At least on paper, she’s right. But things are more complicated in this world. It matters, of course it matters, and Raven will always be grateful, no matter what Clarke had to do to get rid of Wick. But Raven is beginning to wonder if her best friend had to compromise some of her humanity to do that. 

 

“Clarke, if you did something dangerous, or wrong, or even criminal, I think I have a right to know.” Raven sits forward, an attempt at infiltration considering Clarke can’t sit further back in her seat. She tries to grab Clarke’s hand in comfort but the blonde pulls back and narrows her eyes. 

 

“Is someone putting these thoughts into your head?” The brunette lets out a huff at the accusation. 

 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” Clarke mimics her breathy laugh. 

 

“I don’t think I am. You haven’t so much as uttered his name for years. And suddenly there’s this problem with me getting rid of him?” The conversation is getting a little more heated, grabbing the attention of a few other customers around them. Clarke is no longer sitting back but rather forward with an accusatory expression. 

 

“He disappeared. Literally not a single part of him left. No clothes, no shoes, no pictures, nothing. No trace of him whatsoever. It’s a little concerning.” Raven can admit that her own tone has become a little condescending or patronising. Perhaps that’s why Clarke reacted in such a defensive way, this time making a scene by standing up. 

 

“Concerning? So you’re concerned about him now?” Raven stands up quickly, pulling Clarke back down and glancing around in slight embarrassment. This is the second argument she’s had in this brunch spot in the last two weeks - she considering finding a new spot and never showing her face here again before a reputation is forced onto her. 

 

“I didn’t say that.” She tries to calm Clarke down. She couldn’t care less about Wick. It’s Clarke she’s worried about. Raven is always worrying about Clarke, not because she thinks the blonde can’t take of herself, but rather she’s so secretive that Raven doesn’t know how she manages to take of herself. 

 

“Well what else could you possibly be concerned about?” 

 

“You, Clarke. I’m concerned about you and what happened to you when both you and Wick disappeared. Clarke, I have to ask. Did you hurt him?” 

 

“No, Raven. I didn’t fucking kill him. But it’s great to know you think I would do something like that.”

 

“I don’t think it, I know it.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

“I know it. Because if someone did to you what he was doing to me, I would. I would kill them.”

 

“Raven,” Her gaze softens, so does her tone. This is her opportunity. She needs to get the truth out of Clarke. 

 

“Tell me the truth. I need to know.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


Anya decides to come clean. She’s not an idiot; she knows her best friend is falling for the target, the person she’s meant to hate, a criminal. She also knows it’s not her place to say anything or confront Lexa because it really is none of her business. Lexa can take care of herself. Nevertheless, Anya knows Lexa always put herself first, but puts herself last when she falls for someone. 

 

She was like that with Costia. She did everything and anything she could for her, went above and beyond, would devote her entire existence to the person she loves. Her love is unconditional, it’s devotion and loyalty, it’s pure and simple, effortless and forever. 

 

But from what Anya knows, from what she can predict, loving Clarke will break Lexa to the point of no return. She can’t take anymore heartbreak. Her best friend can’t handle more. She’s the strongest person Anya knows, but her strength comes from her head. Her heart, her feelings, her love is her weakness. 

 

“I think it’s time to hand the case over to Chief.” It takes almost an hour for Anya to bring the topic up with Lexa, almost scared of her reaction. The last thing she wants to do is hurt Lexa, even if it’s indirectly. 

 

“Your sense of humour is weird.” Lexa refuses to turn from her laptop. Anya shifts from her spot on the sofa and looks around, anywhere that isn’t Lexa. She notices the lack of Costia in the flat. She’s removed all photos of her, even the handmade carpet they got from Iran, some decor that only Costia managed to convince Lexa to put in the flat. She’s removed all traces of her. 

 

“I’m being serious. You’re too close to the subject.” This manages to catch Lexa’s attention, but a glare isn’t what Anya has in mind. 

 

“Clarke. Her name is Clarke.” Just that is enough for Anya to know her best friend has caught feelings, and hard. Very hard. Anya is the furthest thing from a homewrecker, but the two do not belong together. Law enforcement and a criminal? Yes, opposites attract, but it doesn’t work when morals are at conflict. 

 

“That’s my point exactly. Lexa, I know you.” 

 

“You know nothing.” Lexa looks back over at her laptop, typing away defensively. Anya pushes. 

 

“I know you have feelings for her.” She slams her laptop closed and points a finger at Anya. She would be offended if she was less understanding. 

 

“You don’t know shit, Anya.” 

 

“Defensive. It’s always what you resort to.” Lexa rolls her eyes and sits back crossing her arms across her chest. 

 

“I’m staying on the case. I’m close.” Stubborn. She’s always stubborn. And Anya really wishes she had solid proof to show Lexa. Her best friend is a woman of facts. Accusations and predictions is not enough. But Anya simply hopes trust is enough this one time. 

 

“She’s playing you, Lexa. I know she is.” She wouldn’t put it past Clarke. A blind, deaf 5 year old could figure out that Lexa is a cop. It’s in her words, her behaviour, her face. It consumes her. Plus, only a psychopath would have such a clean and organised flat, every room down to perfection. 

 

“Where’s your proof?” 

 

“I just have a feeling.” Anya becomes quickly frustrated at Lexa’s laughter. She’s understanding, but not when she’s pushed and patronised. Anya knows. She knows Clarke is no good. She’s never wrong. It’s only logical. 

 

“A feeling isn’t proof.”

 

“She a criminal. That’s enough.” It is enough. It should be enough. But things are more complicated in life, especially if you add motive, time, mental health, everything possible. It becomes too much, to the point of no longer being able to understand anything. 

 

“The things she has done was probably for survival.” Survival. Killing is not survival. Killing is a putting the power of God in your own hands, deciding who gets to die and who gets a second chance at changing, at being a better person. But things are complex. Clarke didn’t kill for survival. She killed because she was angry, because she was defending her best friend, because she wanted justice and didn’t want to put that in the hands of the authorities, authorities like Anya and Lexa. 

 

“Even killing Wick?” 

 

“What?” Perhaps she shouldn’t tell Lexa. It’s not her place. But when her best friend could be in danger what choice does she have? The truth sets you free. That’s the saying. Perhaps it’s not her truth. She’d be third in line after Clarke and Raven. 

 

“Raven’s ex. He disappeared years back. He did some unforgivable things to Raven.” She would kill him. She would kill the fuck out of him for touching Raven like that, for hurting her. Or, she would in her dreams, in her workouts pretending he’s the punch bag, imagining he’s the target at the shooting range. But actually killing someone? She’s rather watch him suffer in prison for his actions. 

 

“That’s not Clarke. She wouldn’t kill. I know her.” Lexa’s shaking her head at this point, running her fingers through her hair - a nervous habit that Anya knows can only mean she’s in denial. She’s scared of losing her, of losing that feeling of loving someone again. That freedom. 

 

“Has she told you she’s in Trikru yet?” 

 

“No.” It’s logic. Clarke doesn’t know about Lexa, right? There would be no real harm in telling her that she’s a gang member, at least there would be no harm if she had reasons of survival. Keeping things, lying, those are all signs of guilt. 

 

“Then what else is she lying about or keeping from you?” Lexa remains silent, sitting back in defeat. She’s staring off into the ceiling but Anya knows she’s still listening. “I know you don’t want to believe it. But put your head before your heart. It’s the only logical explanation for his disappearance. He disappeared, she left for a while and came back. He didn’t.” 

 

“Stop.” Anya stands up and sits on the couch closer to Lexa’s armchair. She watches her, the soft features slowly changing. 

 

“She killed him. Trikru killed him.” Still shaking her head, Lexa sighs and locks her fingers together at the back of her neck. Anya remembers years back when Lexa used to scratch the back of her neck to calm her anxiety. Usually she used to bleed, scratch until she felt something. Anya swats Lexa’s arms away from the back of her neck, letting her rest them on the arm chair. 

 

“We don’t even have a timestamp for when she joined.” That is true, they don’t. But someone with a position as high as Clarke’s in the gang has likely been there for a while. She knows gangs are all about loyalty and obedience. 

 

“Lexa, you’re in denial.” She places her hand over Lexa’s, attempting to be comforting but her comfort is rejected as Lexa retreats her hand and folds them together in her lap. 

 

“She wouldn’t. I know her.” She’s still shaking her head. 

 

“You know the sides that she shows you. What about the sides you don’t see?” 

 

“She-she wouldn’t. She’s not,” Still shaking her head, Lexa breathes out in disbelief, “She,” Lexa takes a minute to breathe, before her features changed from anger to defeat to, well, Anya is scared that she can’t read the look. “She killed him.” 

  
  


\----------

  
  


“I don’t understand why you’re picking a fight with me right now.” Anger doesn’t look good on Clarke. She gets all red, has the weirdest expressions. She never knows what to do with her hands, where to place her arms, what face to make. Clarke refuses to rely on impulse for that despite anger being a moment purely for impulse. 

 

“I’m not doing anything.” Lexa has barely spoken a word since Clarke got here. She’s refused to give in to Clarke’s advances, refused to drop her laptop, refused to even look at the blonde. It’s boring. Clarke doesn’t like being bored. But most of all, she hates when people are angry at her, especially when they refuse to actually say what the problem is. Her mother used to do that a lot when Clarke was younger. She seemed to always be mad at Clarke and never really talk about it, as if Clarke can read her mind and fix things like that. 

 

“Not doing anything is your way of picking a fight.” The blonde reaches over Lexa’s shoulder and closes the laptop. Lexa clearly doesn’t like her things being touched; she turns around in her chair angrily forcing Clarke to stumble back onto the bed. 

 

“Why are you here, Clarke?” She’s finally looking at her, but she’s still not really looking. Her eyes aren’t quite there, her mind elsewhere. It’s like she’s pulling herself back emotionally, just when things were going great. 

 

Clarke knows Lexa finds feelings difficult; it’s the most obvious thing about her. She doesn’t speak about her past, doesn’t speak about their future, doesn’t really speak about them in general. Clarke had to initiate most conversations, Clarke had to get Lexa to let the blonde into her life, despite Lexa still not really letting her into her head. But things changed. Lexa talks, she talks and listens too, she holds Clarke, she kisses her softly rather than roughly, she doesn’t only touch her; she feels her. 

 

“I’m not allowed to see my girlfriend?” Maybe it’s a step too far to say that, perhaps scaring Lexa away isn’t the smartest thing to do. Clarke expects Lexa to laugh that off nervously, perhaps change the topic swiftly. But she didn’t expect the harsh tone, the cold stare, the physical distance between them. 

 

“I’m not your girlfriend.” She can’t say that didn’t hurt. Clarke sits forward, practically on the edge of the bed. Lexa shuffles her chair back, hitting the front of her desk. 

 

“Are you being serious right now?” This time Lexa huffs out a chuckle and swivels forward, getting in Clarke’s face with confidence. A confidence Clarke hasn’t really seen before. It’s both threatening and hot but she tries to push the latter thought away. 

 

“Tell me, Clarke, why are you so persistent today? You saw me last night and this morning.” 

 

“Persistent? I just wanna spend time with you! What’s so wrong with that?” 

 

“I don’t want to spend time with you.” Hearing Lexa say that is a feeling she didn’t ever want to feel again. She has tried. She didn’t have to, but she did, she tried hard because she wanted to know who Lexa is, she wanted to know her and feel her and be with her, no matter how much time and patience it took. Because in Clarke’s head, Lexa was worth it. But one step forwards always means three steps back when it comes to this relationship with Lexa. 

 

“What happened today?” There must be an explanation, because Lexa was perfect this morning. Literally perfect, perfect with kisses, with the whispers of sweet nothings, with promises and adoration. 

 

“Nothing. I think you’re growing too attached. All we’re doing is fucking.” Lexa’s refusing to look at Clarke, but she can’t take her eyes off Lexa. She can’t read her. She doesn’t want to believe her words. She doesn’t believe her words. Lexa is not the cold person she tries to convince everyone she is. 

 

“That’s what you want to call this?” Clarke stands up and walks closer to Lexa, to the woman in front of her, the woman she’s fallen for, the woman she has betrayed, the woman she wants forgiveness from eventually. 

 

“I’m calling it as it is.” The woman who manipulated her? Who constantly pushes her away despite Clarke’s loyalty and efforts? Clarke feels beyond hurt at this point, and impulse takes over. She remembers a name, a name of a person no longer here from the looks of it. And she takes the opportunity to hurt Lexa. But she feels nothing but regret the second she says the words.

 

“You know, if you weren’t such a distant and careless asshole, maybe Costia would still be here.” Silence. Silence is scary if you really think about it. Humans are social creatures, made for relationships, made for talking and conversations and understanding each other. Complexity comes in the words exchanged. 

 

Silence from Lexa is scary. She communicates with her words, or sounds - angry grunts usually - and says things simply. But silence? She’s communicating with her eyes. She’s not looking away, rather embracing the pain, staring directly into Clarke’s eyes as she slowly stands up coming face to face with the blonde. She seems taller in this moment, stronger, more powerful, ready to attack. It takes everything in Clarke to stand her ground. 

 

“You were involved.” Involved? In what? Lexa steps closer without giving Clarke an opportunity to speak. Her tone seems angry, but at herself rather than Clarke. She’s not really screaming, nor shouting, or even raising her voice. She’s just confused and hurt and filled with a hatred so deep and Clarke didn’t realise what she did by blaming Lexa for Costia. “I didn’t want to believe it. God, I’m such a fucking idiot! Tell me, was it you that killed her? Cut her head off? Delivered her to me? What was your fucking role in it?” 

 

Costia didn’t leave. Costia died. Murdered - unless Lexa is being metaphorical. All of a sudden Clarke is overtaken with guilt. And understanding. Lexa lost someone important to her, someone she loved. Of course it would be hard to let someone in due to the fear of them being taken away from her again. 

 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Lexa’s an inch away from Clarke now, so close that she can feel hot breath on her. She can feel the anger and heat radiating off Lexa’s body. 

 

“Don’t act fucking stupid.” She needs to come clean. She’s never seen Lexa this angry before, and she would rather Lexa be angry all in one go.  

 

“I read your journal. I just read the last entry. I promise that’s all I know her from. She was killed?” The brunette steps back, this time looking more hurt than anything else. Clarke invaded her privacy. 

 

“Get out.” 

 

“Lexa-” She can barely get her name out before the brunette slams her own fist against her desk. It sounds like it would hurt if Lexa wasn’t so numb to everything else right now. 

 

“Get out before I do something that can’t be taken back.” Clarke doesn’t believe Lexa can hurt her. She’s not capable of that. Lexa has a good heart, something Clarke admires. She’s full of mercy and love, no matter what facade she tries to put out. The blonde steps forward, this time gently grazing her fingers across Lexa’s jaw, finding hope in the way the brunette leans in slightly to the touch. 

 

“I’m not leaving. Talk to me, Lex.” She pulls right back, practically sitting on her desk not being able to get further away from Clarke.  

 

“Get the fuck out Clarke!” Her voice breaks, and it shatters Clarke heart that she’s on the verge of making Lexa cry. 

 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said. I just assumed she left, I didn’t know she was murdered.”

 

“You’re lying! Stop fucking lying to me!” She shaking her head, hands covering her ears like a child. Clarke steps forward, risking touching Lexa again. She needs to come clean about everything, about Niylah, Trikru, her past, looking through Lexa’s things. Everything. 

 

“Lexa, listen to me, please. I admit I’ve lied, but not about this.” 

 

“You’re fucking Niylah. You’re so high up in the gang and you expect me to believe you didn’t know about Costia?” She knows. She knows? She already knows. The first thing that comes to her mind is, Lexa is going to leave her. And the second thing is, Lexa has been playing her. She doesn’t know which to go with, but both make her want to run and never stop. 

 

“You-you know?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL........
> 
> who watches killing eve? fucking breaks my heart how beautiful it is and how they never give us what we want. 
> 
> dont hate me. this is going very well in my head and WE WILL GET TO HAPPINESS EVENTUALLY 
> 
> (also this is a little rushed but i just wanted to get it quickly done and posted before i go on holiday on monday so YAY hope you enjoy angst, betrayal, and tears)
> 
>  
> 
> leave kudos and comments :)
> 
> let me know what you like, what you don't like, what you want, what you don't want

**Author's Note:**

> leave kudos and comments :) 
> 
> let me know what you like, what you don't like, what you want, what you don't want


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